A Hero on a Foreign Home
by Fiction-stalker supreme
Summary: Confusion arises as Harry suddenly wakes up in a world so similar yet entirely differently to his own; doing as he has learned to do after years of practise, he goes with the flow, while trying to figure out a way home. Though he can't help the unnerving feeling that keeps nagging at the back of his mind that he might never go home.
1. Chapter 1

Sleeper

Sleep. The word no longer felt the same now that he thought about it, because, after who knew how long, it just lost its depth; to him, it no longer meant rest and replenishment, just an endless existence that had moved too far from unconsciousness to be called sleep. So he lay, not moving, holding the perfect façade of sleep and thinking. He'd found, during the first days—or nights, the difference was too hard to tell when his eyes were closed—of 'waking' that he couldn't help how far his mind wandered, heck he couldn't even stop the treacherous thing that had led him to the shores of depression; he'd thought of his wife, lovely Ginny, whom he was sure was probably a pillar of strength to their children, James, Albus and Lily, after all—and he was most certain of this—the three had lost a father and Ginny her husband.

He sighed, feeling regret welling up at the pit of his being; he should have stopped, he chided himself not for the first or last time. He should have just put down his Auror robes and spent time with his family, if he'd done that he wouldn't have been hunting Dark Wizards in the dead of night and most assuredly wouldn't have been hit by the orange curse which had landed him on who knew where. But, clear to everyone that wasn't him, Harry Potter had a Saving People Thing, a compulsion to make sure that no innocents were hurt by Dark Wizards even if it meant his life in the process.

Now he was here, in this state of Limbo that was so different from what he'd seen twenty years ago, so different from the too-clean King's Cross Station that had greeted him after Voldermort's Killing curse. He honestly wished he had that option again, that Dumbledore could again give him the choice between life and death, between moving on to be with his parents, godfather, Remus, Fred, Tonks and Dumbledore himself or going back to his children, his wife and best-mates. The choice would be quite hard to make, he admitted to himself, both prospect held their own pros and the only con would that he would miss whichever side he'd chosen not to go to.

But that didn't seem like it was now an option, because he had pleaded quite loudly for Dumbledore to come take him away from this hell and nothing had happened. So Harry had, after what had felt to him like close to a decade, given up and went back to thinking of his entire family, because to him there was no thought greater.


	2. Chapter 2

Awaken Sleeper

It felt like a current had been run through his body, instantly his heart raced and blood rushed through his system; he eyes snapped open, greeted rudely by a harsh white light that hit his eye like a powerful Stinging hex. Harry was on his feet before he could fully comprehend his being awake and just as quickly on the floor as his legs gave out. Arms grabbed him from both sides, picking and setting him on his feet. Pins and needles raced up his legs, the feeling just as sharp as when the light had hit him.

"I need you to stand mate," said a smooth voice with an accent that was similar to Harry's own. "Do you think you can do that?" Harry turned in the direction of the voice, but all he could see was a blurry humanoid shape against a stark white backdrop.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, voice raspy from disuse.

"We don't have time for this," another voice said, this one with a foreign accent Harry thought might have been American, but then again he wasn't too sure, he'd heard the country had a plethora of accents. "They're going to notice we're gone."

"Too true," the Brit said, "we'll explain later, for now come with us."

To say Harry was confused would have been an understatement, but, as he'd learned through his Hogwarts years, it was easier to just go with it. He followed, which wasn't too hard with both the Brit and the American still holding on to him, and walked towards stark-white that he guessed was a wall.

"We're walking towards a wall," he said as he and his companions didn't slow down. He heard a small chuckle but was still pulled forward, the three not slowing down. Harry cringed, but didn't stop; at present he was at a total loss and the blurry figures, whoever they were, knew a lot more of what was happening than he did. One moment they were walking towards a wall, the next he felt as though his entire body was moving through mud and suddenly he was through the wall; were Harry not a wizard he was sure he would have gaped, he was sure—and it seemed about the only thing he was sure about at present—he was not moving through the Platform 9 ¾ barrier and these two men were not wizards.

The three of them continued walking, from blurry room to blurry room. Harry had absolutely no way of knowing where he was and where he was going, Merlin, how he hated being blind. His companions were tense, he could almost feel it in the way both of them held tightly on to him as though losing him would be major set-back.

They scent of fresh air hit Harry with the force of a train, leaving him reeling. "We've got to keep moving," the American said and Harry realised that they stopped and he was the cause.

"Let him enjoy himself, Peter," said the Brit, "From what I've heard he's been kept by the Company for quite the tenure."

"Kept?" Harry couldn't help but ask. His thoughts had been stuck on the fact that he'd been in Limbo; being kept by companies was just as implausible as a phoenix befriending a Dark Wizard, or Hermione not eyeing every book she passed hungrily.

"Well, I think the more apt term would be imprisoned, but..." Harry couldn't see it, but he was sure the man was shrugging. He'd been imprisoned? Harry couldn't believe it, he honestly couldn't believe his luck; of all things to happened to him upon his death, this was certainly not what he'd imagined.

"I am confused." And he really was.

He heard an exasperated sigh and, "We can talk about this later, now we need to get to Nathan." Harry heard footsteps, but didn't follow. It was in equal parts that he was still shocked that he'd die and be arrested and the knowledge that if he took a step, he'd most surely stumble and fall.

"Are you coming?" asked the American, whom Harry knew was called Peter.

"I don't have my glasses, I can't see," he said and heard the distinct sound of another sigh then a hand grab him and start pulling him towards...wherever. "So I've been imprisoned?" Harry asked as they walked; they were walking at a fast pace, passing blurry inanimate-object after blurry inanimate-object. He heard a hum from the Brit, he seemed about the only person truly in the know about the entire situation. "Why?"

"Is the reason anymore behind the actions of the Company?" the Brit asked and Harry assumed that the question was rhetorical because he didn't even know what this company the Brit was talking about was. "I reason you must have been a threat at some point, a threat so large that the only option was to put you to sleep for the last thirty years," the Brit continued.

"Thirty year?" Harry's voice lined with a bit of incredulity, he'd been stuck in hell for thirty years because a bloody company thought he was dangerous! What had he bloody done for them to think he was dangerous in the first place? Saved the Wizarding World and bloody got killed for it! Harry continued walking, an anger that he hadn't felt since his sixth year bubbling wildly in his stomach, and this time it had nothing to do with Voldermort. This was unfair. The whole bloody situation was unfair. He didn't deserve being thrown into jail, especially after having lost everything.

They walked in a hefty silence a while longer, Harry mulling over what little information he'd been told, one question ringing through his mind; what the bloody hell was going on?

When a person died, wizard or muggle, they died; pure and simple. But when he died it had to be this big ordeal where he was arrested for four decades. What the hell was wrong with Fate, he mused rather broodingly, did he have some large target on his back that said mess with me?

"So what's the plan?" Peter said, interrupting Harry from his thoughts. "Do you have some way we can get to New York?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd fly us there," the Brit answered smoothly, as though the three hadn't just escaped from prison. "But with our friend here-" and Harry didn't need to see that he was said friend, "I think we may be too large a load to carry. You wouldn't happen to know how to teleport would you?"

There was not an answer and between Harry's blind state and the low light that illuminated the area he had no idea who the Brit was talking to, so he answered, "Yeah, I can. But New York is a little off my mark, anywhere still on home-ground I could Apparate to."

"I'll assume Apparating is the same as teleporting," the Brit said, though it sounded like a passing statement. "Why would you be able to teleport to England and not New York which is closer?"

"Closer?" Harry asked befuddled. "Where exactly are we?"

"Odessa, Texas," the Brit answered with a somewhat sympathetic tone. Harry sighed, then sighed again, then one last time for the clear hopelessness of the situation; curses—the non-magical kind—flit through his mind, most directed at whatever higher-being had seen fit to screw with him.

"Once we do whatever it is you're planning in New York, you have to explain everything to me," he said and didn't even give the two a second to agree before he said, "Hold on to me, tightly."

American was not a place Harry had frequented, having spent the bulk of his life in England, Scotland and France where he'd gone on his honey-moon; but he had visited the country once and, coincidently, had visited New York while attending a conference to discuss measures to make sure no Dark wizard would ever threaten the wizarding world on the scale that Voldermort had without international aid being offered. The only place he'd been able to firmly remember enough for him to successfully Apparate to had been the Empire State Building, he'd hypothesised it had something to with the height of the building, he was never really sure.

So, as Harry felt two hands grasp his shoulders, he thought quite firmly of the alley that lay beside the building and wanted himself and his companions to be at the alley, then turned on the spot. Instantly he felt himself pulled into the tight sensation of Apparition, his entire body feeling as though it was being pushed through a small tube and finding it extremely hard to breathe; just as quickly as it had started the feeling was gone and the sound of a loud crack diminishing into the night, the clear crisp air replace by arid scent of car and dumpster fumes.

"That," the Brit started sounding disconcerted, "was unexpected."

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. The first experience of Apparition was always jarring. "Should have warned you."

"All's well that ends well, I suppose. We're in New york—"

"And we'll attract a lot of attention with the way we're dressed," interrupted Peter. "I'll go find us some clothes." Then there was the sound of him walking off, Harry really wished he could see now, it was really hard trying to take stock of a situation when one of his senses was ridiculously impaired.

"I don't suppose you know an optometrist," he said to the Brit, whom he really should have learnt his name, after all, the man and his companion had broken him out of an undeserved jail-sentence. "I really despise walking blind."

"An optometrist, no, though I do have a way I could give you perfect eyesight."

"And how would you do that?" Harry asked, he'd tried many times to get his eyesight fixed and been told many times that his sight was too far gone, even Healers had just given him a better pair of glasses and told him not to lose them; so he was skeptical when the Brit—and again he reminded himself to ask the other's name—said he'd give him perfect eyesight.

"Like you and Peter I have...gifts, if you will, my blood has unbelievable healing properties; it can heal virtually anything."

Like him and Peter, the statement rang around Harry's head for a moment, trying to rationalise it. He'd known that Peter and the Brit weren't wizards; Harry couldn't explain it but he had, after gruelling hours spent combing homes for cursed objects, found that he could feel magic. He couldn't differentiate between light or dark, or feel if a place had wards, but he could feel the magic that thrummed of a charmed, cursed or transfigured object, even wizards themselves, and he didn't feel that same thrumm off the two. It was then somewhat confusing to discover that these two had 'gifts' that were so close that they could be confused with magic. But Harry put that conundrum at the back of his mind, he still needed to find out how he'd survived the curse that he'd thought had killed him, where his friends and family were after forty years and putting a stop to this company that just detained people for thirty years with no good reason. Okay, he thought, but first I need to find a wand, his status as Defeater of Darkness meant that many of the darker end of the spectrum wouldn't hesitate firing a Killing curse towards him.

No, first he'd take the chance at clear vision, then the wand.


	3. Chapter 3

Clear Perspective

"So how does this work?" Harry asked, staring at the blurry shape that stood in front of him, Adam Monroe, as the man had introduced himself—finally.

"Well," Adam started, "it's quite simple. Though it does need one to have a lot of trust." Harry found that he was already not liking where this was going. Trust, was not something that he gave out easily, this was the curse of being a war veteran. Trust needed to be earned, and though Adam had broken him out of jail—which he was grateful for—that didn't mean he'd earned Harry's trust. But that was not exactly something he could say out loud, so he continued listening. "As I've said before, it's my blood that heals, therefore I would need to inject you with some of it."

Harry stayed silent for a while, thinking the offer over; blood was risky stuff, both in the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds and coming into contact with someone else's...Harry didn't know what to think of it; was it truly worth it to be able to see? "Will you need my blood in any of this?" Harry asked, memories of Peter Pettigrew drawing his blood flashing vividly through his mind. He'd never gotten over the ordeal, or the guilt that of all the people that had died for him, and the act of his blood being taken, even if by a muggle, didn't sit very well with him.

"No," was Adam's answer, "I'll just give you a small cut in the palm of your hand and with a few drops of my blood, your sight should be restored to perfection and all the scars your body has, disappear."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, still messy as usual, he thought as his hand moved through his tangled locks. He still didn't like it. Blood was blood, and not just something one gave away. He was, if not more than a little, suspicious, after all he and Adam didn't know each other that well and except for both of them being British and having 'gifts' they had nothing in common; Adam helping him just didn't make any sense, then again nothing did.

"Fine," he said, spilling the words out before he changed his mind. "Let's do this." Quicker than he expected he felt Adam grab his hand, wincing as he felt glass slicing through his palm and feeling warm gushing blood spill out followed by a slight throbbing pain. It was not a second later that the throbbing stopped and his eyes began to itch. His vision changed as if he were putting on his glasses, images became clearer and sharper and for the first time he could see Adam Monroe; the man was a bit taller than Harry, with blond hair and slightly tanned skin, looking between his mid to late-thirties. "Wow," Harry said, those the only words that manage to come out.

Adam smiled, the look Harry recognised as the look that came before an 'I told you so'. He supposed that it was rightly deserved, he hadn't trusted a man who'd wanted nothing but to help him. He pushed down the small amount of guilt he was starting to feel and looked down at the hand that Adam had cut open—his left hand—and saw a smudge of red; with a small push he was surprised to find nothing, he turned the hand over and again marvel to find his hand empty of the scrawl he'd gotten his fifth year. He hurriedly searched his other hand and his arms of the scars that told stories of a war fought too young and found absolutely nothing. His hand rose instinctively to his forehead, just above his right brow, hoping that the scar that had made him an oddity had also vanished.

A defeated sigh left him as his fingers rubbed against his lightning-bolt scar, his most distinctive feature he'd been told, well when his eyes and hair weren't taken into account. "I suppose it would have been too much for you to have disappeared wouldn't it?" he muttered, most of the joy that had come from his healing vanishing into thin air. He looked at Adam again and found that the man was giving his scar an intrigued look.

"That's never happened before," said Adam. "Where did you get it? The scar?"

Harry rubbed the scar nervously, he never liked it when people paid too much attention to it, the scar held a terrible price. "Car accident," he lied, pushing down his hair to make sure they covered the scar; a nervous habit when people stared. Adam nodded, though Harry could clearly tell the man didn't believe him, he didn't much care, he could see, it was time to take stock of his surroundings.

The alley they were standing in was dark and a bit decrepid, having nothing in the way of possessions except a too-full dumpster near its opening; lights from the city flooded the outside of the alley, avoiding it with a vengeance, and cars, mostly yellow, passed with dizzying frequency past.

"Where's Peter?" Harry asked, after looking at least nine times around the alley.

"Off to get us some clothes, he should be back any minute."

Harry nodded absently, his mind still revolving around the fact that he could see without glasses; this should have been impossible, all of it, his sight, his scars disappearing. Magic had failed to fix those and yet, a muggle of all things had been able to clear all those with a simple drop of blood.

How?

Adam had said, he, Peter and Harry—though he guessed they didn't know he was a wizard—had gifts, and he'd seen these gifts at work; Peter had walked through walls, Adam healed him easier than magic—not to mention the talk of flying, actually flying, he'd guessed without brooms—and both hadn't even batted an eye-lid—his wasn't sure if the case had been literal—when he'd teleported them across a country. Mabye forty years had changed the world more than he knew, maybe muggles and their technology had fashioned themselves abilities akin to magic. He chuckled lightly, wondering what Pure-blood Supremests thought of this; muggles that could hold their own against wizards.

"Ah, Peter," said Adam as the man turned to face empty air, the dark-haired and sharp featured Peter appeared from thin air beside the blond, dressed in casual muggle clothes that weren't the grey cotton shirt and pants that Harry and Adam were wearing and carrying a few more items.

"I'm not sure, they'll fit," said Peter facing Harry who was looking back him. "But they're clothes."

"We're going to have to be quick about healing your brother," Adam said as he and Harry started changing clothes. "I'm sure the Company will be sending a few of their agents to the hospital, they'll expect you to visit Nathan first."

At this Harry perked. "You never told me what this Company was," he said and he shrugged on a roomy hoodie, not that he wasn't used to large clothes. "What is it exactly?"

"The Company," said Adam, and the was a sort of emphasise on the word company, as though it was a sort of name. Peter had already started walking out of the alley, Adam and Harry following behind him. "It's run by people like us, they used make sure those of our kind that were a danger to society were detained. It worked well enough for a few years, they kept us safe, making sure we didn't attract too much attention from ordinary humans."

"What changed?" Harry asked, noting that Adam spoke with a certain familiarity about this comp-the Company.

Adam gave him a side-glance. "I can't say I know. Ambition got the better of them, I reckon. Sometime after, I started hearing conversation about mass-genocide for the 'greater good', cleansing the human race they called it."

"You started hearing? You worked for them?" asked Harry.

Adam nodded, his face stern as if hiding guilt. "I used to guard one of their prisons," he said.

"You never told me that," said Peter from the lead, Harry was honestly surprised that the man been listening; Peter, to Harry, seemed really intense, the single determination to get to Nathan was really overwhelming, well would've been if he wasn't the same when someone he loved was on the line.

"I'm afraid it never came up," Adam answered to which Peter scowled. "And it's not something I pride myself in."

"Why'd you stop?" asked Peter and added, "And why'd they lock you up?"

Adam stopped, Peter and Harry following in his stead; the crowd passed around them in a huff, the three were lucky that the night streets weren't as full as they usually were. He worriedly looked between Peter and Harry. "For reasons that, if I told you, the current Director of the Company would have no qualms about killing the both of you," he finally said.

* * *

Gaining access into the hospital had been easy, but that was to be expected since Peter had read the nurse at the reception area's mind—Harry had admitted distaste at the invasion of privacy—and headed for Nathan's room, taking a short-cut through the walls. Adam and Peter had entered the room, while Harry had chosen to stay outside, he'd didn't feel like intruding on familial business.

The Company. All through their walk, which had been too long for someone who hadn't walked for forty years, Harry's thoughts had revolved around the organisation; trying to reign in the anger that threatened to overcome him, visiting Peter's brother had cleared away some of his confusion and it had finally occurred to Harry that he had missed forty years with his wife and children because of a god-damned company that was too ambitious for their own good. He needed to get to England, and quickly, he didn't even care that he didn't have a wand. He frowned, gaze intent on the floor, trying to think of the last time he'd been in America, searching his mind for the location of a Port-key station. Nothing came to mind.

"All done," he heard and looked up, Adam and Peter were coming out of Nathan's room. Peter's feature had eased a little from what they'd been, his worry lines gone.

"We're going to have to find some place to lay-low, as the saying goes," Adam said as the four left the hospital. "I have a few contacts that could make us fake passports rather quickly, a day or two, at most, then we leave the country. Peter, would you be so kind as to get me a phone?" Peter gave a small nod and started walking faster, disappearing as he turned a corner.

"You lot don't care about secrecy, do you?" Harry asked having watched Peter disappear many time without even considering the repercussions of showing his abilities.

"The Company doesn't care much what you do with your ability, just as long as you don't endanger the normals."

Sounded sloppy, Harry thought, for all its ineptitude the British Ministry of Magic held on to the Statute of Secrecy with a firm and unyielding grasp, Obliviators were sometimes thought as the best response unit in the Ministry. The Company's stance on the whole secrecy thing needed a lot of work, but then again, muggles weren't the sort that liked things that deviated from normality, a supermuggle would have sooner been called a freak than being marveled.

Peter appeared beside them, starting Harry a little, and handed Adam the phone; said man pressed it a few times then, "Maury," he began cheerfully before starting into a conversation that Harry didn't pay any particular attention to. He should have felt something by now, anything, but there hadn't been the smallest niggle of magic all through their walk. Wizards and witches were rare, yes, but not so rare that one wasn't to run across one of them in a muggle city.

A moment they were walking down an empty street and the next Harry was climbing up a flight of stairs and walking into a small apartment. It wasn't much of a place, the only word to describe the furniture was meager; there sat a ragged yet plushy couch that looked towards a small TV, the kitchen had small woodcrafted table and four stools that looked worn. Harry noticed two doors—with the exclusion of the exit—and he guessed that one must have led to the bathroom while the other to the only bedroom.

"Well, lads, this is to be our home until we get our papers," said Adam, the man looking through empty cupboards.

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep, wouldn't sleep. His body just didn't want to do it. Everytime he started thinking about sleep his mind immediately jumped to the limbo he'd been stuck in for what felt like a decade, and he shied away from it.

He wasn't the only one that wasn't asleep, Peter was in the room with him, and the man was pacing. Harry hadn't spoken all that much with them man, they'd shared a few words—mainly introuctions—and that had been it. The man seemed too intense and Harry, ever the anti-social, had no idea how to approach him so he blurted out the first question he thought might not considered too intrusive for a virtual stranger.

"Why did the Company arrest you?" asked Harry.

Peter paused, looking a bit surprised, but answered, "You could say I volunteered." Peter chuckled at Harry's surprise, seating himself on the couch. "My ability," he started, "let's me have any ability I've ever come across; healing, flight, mind-reading, shooting lightning-bolts, moving things with my mind. All of it, I can do those, amazing things, but I can't control it all that well." Peter swallowed, his gaze shifting from Harry to dirty floor, and his features hardening. "A few months ago, I took an ability I couldn't control. It made me a living bomb and I was just about the blow up New York before my brother flew me into the sky and away from the city. Unfortunately he stayed too close for too long and I burnt him," Peter faltered at the last and Harry thought he wouldn't continue.

"When I took him to hospital I was hit with something, I blacked out and the next moment I was with Bob and Elle."Harry didn't know who those were but didn't feel like interrupting. "They told me something I knew, that with my ability I was a danger and they could help me. Take away my ability. What they didn't tell me was that they'd lock me in a prison and not let me see my family."

Another mark against the Company, when Harry brought them down, he was sure he'd feel no pity what-so-ever. "How did they keep you if you could replicate any ability, wouldn't you have just used the powers of other detainees to escape?"

"They have these pills, they call the Haitian Pills, they negate any and all abilities; and I think that's also why the put me next to Adam's cell, they knew I couldn't control my abilities well so they put next to someone whose ability wouldn't let me escape even if I stopped my meds."

"Smart, but you managed to outsmart them."

Peter shook his head. "It was Adam, the guy's been alive long enough to have seen many abilities so he taught me how to access Phasing."

"I don't get you, what do you mean he's been alive long enough, isn't he thirty, or forty at best?"

"Times the last by a hundred and your on the nail," Peter said with some amusement.

Harry gaped, "Merlin's beard, the guy's old." Though it made sense, if his blood was continually healing him it was only a step before the man reached immortality. Harry chuckled, a true immortal, what were the chances. "So you can heal like Adam, does that mean your immortal too?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I'll in a few hundred years," he said with a small chuckle. "How old are you?" Peter asked. "I mean, you don't look old enough that anyone would notice you'd been asleep for forty years."

"Seventy-seven," Harry answered without even thinking about it, the time he'd been hit by the orange curse he'd been thirty-seven. Peter whistled, eyes roving over Harry's appearance.

"Man, you age well. You don't look a day over twenty-five."

Harry traced his face, with everything that had gone on he hadn't had time to find a mirror and look at himself, but what Peter said didn't sound right; wizards naturally aged slower than muggles, a wizard a hundred years old looked no you older than a muggle in their late fifties but was still spry enough to dodge and throw spells to best even the most energetic youngster. Harry should have at least looked thirty, if not forty, he internally sighed, another mystery on top of it all. First chance he got he was speaking to Hermione.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Four in the bloody morning and I had the urge to finish this chapter. I'd originally planned to finish yesterday but real life sucked me in. A note, I've been doing some reading into the Heroes Timeline and I discovered that the Company was founded thirty years from the date that Peter and Adam escaped, that means Harry should also have been arrested thirty and not forty years ago, something that I will change in previous chapters but not now. For now I go to sleep.

* * *

Harry James Potter

Thirty-two times. Harry had counted with chagrined each time he'd turned into the wrong street and found himself at an unknown place, but that had been the goal; get lost and maybe run across one witch or wizard. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened yet. He sighed, turning into and alley, quickly turning on the spot and disappearing with a soft pop.

"Back again," said Adam, the man was sitting on the couch watching the TV with an expression that could only be described as restrained. "I honestly thought you'd been caught this time."

Harry sighed, he could tell where this conversation was going; he, Adam and Peter had had it many times in the past two days. Adam didn't like any of them splitting up, he thought they would work better as a unit if they ran past any company agents; Harry and Peter not so much. Harry felt that being cooped up in an apartment did none of them any good, especially if he could find a faster way home, hence he'd been walking around New York. Peter on the other hand, didn't care much for consequences, the man had been keeping an avid gaze on his brother, thought not talking to him, they'd discussed the possibility that if Peter made contact with Nathan, the Company might also take the flier in, use him to get to Peter—why they didn't do that in the first place Harry didn't know.

"As I told you before, I can take care of myself," said Harry throwing himself on the couch. Adam nodded, still looking restrained.

"I'll be leaving for a few hours," said Adam. "The Papers are ready."

"Good. Where will you and Peter be going?"

"Montreal, I know a few people there that could help us disappear," he said. "I'd thought you would come with us."

Harry shook his head, he didn't care much if the Company knew where he was, he wanted to see his family and friends, and get his hands on a wand. Then, he'd use every contact he had to take down this company. "I need to get to England."

"You have family there?"

"Yes," Harry answered simply.

Adam turned to look at him, eyes shining with sympathy. "Do you think that's a good idea? After thirty years, things might have changed."

Harry stayed quiet, mulling it over; he'd given it more than a little thought, that Ginny might have remarried, that his children had forgotten who he is and moved on. But he'd quickly stamped down those thoughts, he'd deal with it. Whatever happened he'd deal with it. "They might, but I've still got to check if everyone is alright."

* * *

"You never told me about your powers," said Peter from the kitchen, in two hours Harry hadn't moved from his spot on the couch—well except when he'd had to go to the bathroom. "I mean I get the whole teleporting thing, but, you also don't age or sleep, are those part of your powers?"

To tell or not to tell. He liked Peter, even though he hadn't known the man that well. Peter reminded Harry a little of himself, though he couldn't peg what it was about him. But was the fact that he liked the guy enough to tell him about magic? He internally shook his head, he didn't know how the Wizarding World dealt with supermuggles, until the he'd keep magic close to his chest.

"I teleport," he finally said, "and it's not particularly that I don't age but that I age slowly." From what he remembered at least. "The sleep thing though, might psychological, both my body and my mind have come to a consensus that they won't allow me to sleep in the near future."

"Was them putting you to sleep that bad?" Peter asked.

Harry nodded, then remembered that he and Peter weren't in the same room and said, "Yes, I was awake through, what felt to me, like ten years. Living in darkness with nothing to do but think. I thought I'd died and gone to some sort of Limbo, it wasn't the best experience I'l give you that." There was a lengthy silence, the TV acting as background noise that both ignored.

"When did Adam say he'll get ba—" A knock from the door interrupted the man.

"I'll get it," said Harry as he got up and headed to the door. He faltered as the force of a speeding truck collided with his Occlumency shield, his hand flew to his scar—though it did not hurt the action had become a habit—and a grimace left him. Peter was instanty on his feet.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"I think," Harry started, his voice strained, "Someone's trying to break into my mind." As he said this he felt another strong force rip through his shield and tearing it to shreds; his legs gave out and he was on the floor, his head throbbing with the worst headache he'd ever felt.

"Harry?" There was another knock on the door, this one a little firmer. "Give me minute!" Peter shouted at the door. "Harry are you okay?" Harry tried to answer, the throbbing had now become a strong compression around his head. Another knock, firmer and louder echoed through the room, an exasperated sigh leaving Peter as he hurriedly went to the door, opening it viciously. "I said give us a—Shit." Peter flew back as an a bolt of electricity slammed into him, crashing into the far wall.

"Hello, Peter," said a woman, thin and blonde, her hands crackling blue with electricity as she walked into the apartment. Harry was still on the floor, hands still on his head as he tried to push back the compression. Two men, one tall and bald with dark skin, the other shorter with brown hair and a goatee. "You know, I'm disappointed," she said, "and just when I thought we were getting to know each—" A yelp left her as Peter threw a bolt at her, but it missed as she jumped to the side. The goateed man quickly drew out a weapon, but before he could point it at Peter it was thrown out of his hands and he was pushed back and stuck on a wall.

The blonde got to her feet, the crackle in her back and shrieking ominously. She shot a bolt at Peter, but before it could hit the man, he disappear, the bolt slamming into the TV. "Why aren't you stopping his powers!" she shouted to the tall man who stood rigidly, watching Harry with intense concentration. The man didn't answer, nor did he show that he'd heard the blonde. She turned to look at the man still stuck on the wall. "Where is he?" she asked heatedly.

"Behind you," the man whispered. The blonde quickly whipped around, already shooting a bolt. It hit something and the man on the wall clattered on the ground, Peter appearing with his jacket on fire. He quicky pulled it off, while pushing out a hand and sending the blonde, the brunette and the bald man flying.

A relieved sigh left Harry the forced eased, though he was surprised to note the disheveled room and the panicked Peter coming toward him. He shakily raised himself onto his feet and was lucky that Peter caught him when he faltered. "What happened?"

"Later, get us out of here." Harry was a little surprised by Peter's tone but quickly did as he was told, he turned on the spot, turning straight into a blue bolt of electricity hit him. He was pulled viciously into the tight tube, a weight that he could only assume was Peter holding his arm, and something k else, something hot throbbing fiercely at his chest. He couldn't think straight through the pain, couldn't think of any destination except, Godric's Hollow.

The darkness stretched on even longer, a second soon turned into a minute, then two.

* * *

The darkness was familiar, like an old friend. No, an old enemy. He remembered it clearly, the darkness had kept him for ten years. He remembered that he didn't like the darkness and that he wanted to make up.

Harry's eyes snapped open as he jerked awake, his breathing hard as if he had been plagued by nightmares. He was momentarily confused by the sight that greeted him; he was in a bedroom fit for the wealthy, the bed was ostensibly large, all it's decor woodcrafted and a large painting of a large lake hanging on the wall opposite the bed. He tried to move but pain flared at his abdomen, arm and both his legs; he cringed and decided that movement didn't seem like a likely option. He chuckled sardonically as he spotted bandages wrapped around his chest. "I guess it was too much to ask before I got new scars," he muttered before gritting his teeth in preparation for his next move. He pushed himself out of the bed, pushing the pain that flared at the back of his mind and starting towards the door.

He reached the door, but before he could open it, a familiar feeling washed over him that it caught him by surprise. It opened of its own accord revealing, him. Harry gaped, there wasn't a doubt that he was him, the messy brunette hair that was almost black in colour, the pale skin and short stature. It was obviously him. "What's—"

"Going on?" asked the other Harry, standing on the other side of the door, smiling like a loon. "A Time Turner, or the closest equivalent to the device." He walked into room and Harry automatically stepped back, ignoring the sharp pain that flared with each steps back.

"How?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's a long a story. Very long, about a century's worth of information, but that's not why I'm hear." the other Harry said.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked befuddled, there was some guess that his other self was using a Time Turner, but the way he'd worded was strange.

"To build this home." said the other Harry—or James as Harry had decided to call him, "for you. No, if I say it's for you, then you might not build it in the future, so let's skip that. Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of Darkness, you must build this house and answer most of the questions that you ask yourself, whatever it takes. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, for there was nothing else he could do. He'd never imagined that he'd meet himself, Hermione had told him that the possibility of that happening was minimal at best, so there was no point in preparing for it, but now. Now, he didn't now how to deal with it.

"The first step is to calm down," said James, "well at least that's what I remember the most prominent question being when I first saw myself."

"You're here to build this house?" asked Harry at which James nodded. "Why?"

"Well, because majority of your life you spent searching for Magic, though this is not my original mission, I'm here to tell you that magic does not exist in this world."

"What do you mean this world?"

"I mean the world your now in, the world where magic does not exist but extraordinary humans exist do."

Harry gritted his teeth,"You mean that—"

"Ginny, James, Sirius and Lily do not exist?" There was a solemn nod that wrenched Harry's heart. "Yes," said James with an amount of sympathy that Harry was greatful for, it said that someone at least felt his pain. "But that's not why you're here. You're here discover some secrets."

Harry didn't answer for a moment or so, the loss of his wife and children too hard to take, but it wasn't as if James hadn't gone through that same pain that Harry felt. He stayed quiet, looking towards Harry to continue.

"Why aren't they here?" Harry asked his voice failing to hide how hurt he was. James frowned, green eyes radiating the same emotion that Harry was going through even though his face didn't; he shrugged.

"As I said before, different world. I don't think it has the same people that my world has."

"How do we...I mean I, get back?"

James gave another shrug. "Once you figure that out, be sure to tell me because I'm clueless." James walked further into the room and out a chair to sit. "You'd better sit and let me explain a few things, I don't know how me being here affects the future. The last me just left me a note telling me my mission and that was it."

"Then why are you here?"

James frowned, looking a bit disappointed. "Not the question I was expecting, but I'll answer it none the less. I'm here because I was avoiding a very stupid thrusday, which I'll be returning to once this is all over."

Harry frowned. "I don't know what that means," he said to which James nodded.

"Don't Panic. You shouldn't know it yet."

Harry rasied a brow. "I wasn't panicking." he said.

James just grinned. "Back on topic," he said and turned serious for the first time, "your mission Harry James Potter is to find your wand. Once you do that, you'll have some vague idea to what's going on."

"What is going on?"

James smirked. "That's for you to figure out Auror, I've done my part. I can leave now," said James standing.

"Wait. That's it? You're going to tell me to find my wand, but aren't going to tell me where it is? It could be virtually anywhere," said Harry heatedly.

James just nodded, then thought on it for a few seconds before saying, "Find Peter and you find the wand." Then the man disappeared, there wasn't even a soft pop in his departure.

Harry stood, still no believing what had just happened. All of them were gone, that truth rang through his mind with such intensity that it was his only thought; with a sniffle, he decided that now was a time to be depressed. He threw himself on the bed and let sleep engulf him.

* * *

AN: The goateed guy is not an Original Character, but Lukas Bahn, a Company agent that has the ability to detet other evolved humans who are at close range. there isn't much detail on his power so I just assumed that it would really be location specific.


	5. Chapter 5

Ignored Mission

Harry supposed he should have thinking been about Peter; he'd deduced that he'd gotten spliched—that was a pretty easy deduction seeing as he'd had chunks of himself missing when he'd removed his bandages—and the same might have happened to Peter, but for the life of him his mind just couldn't stay on the subject. It just revolved around the non-existence of his wife, children and extended family.

Harry heaved himself from the couch, his body groaning from laying on it too long, it wasn't much in the way on comfort and went to the fully stocked bar that James had filled. He sighed, noticing that he was almost out of whiskey, his companion for the last day or so—Harry hadn't really been paying an attention to time. He finished the bottle off, he wasn't gong to waste a drop of it, especially when it meant escape from the constant dark state his mood dwelled in; there was a slight burn as it flowed down his throat and the relief followed soon after, though not enough in his opinion. For the first time he'd need to get out of the house, he was not looking forward to that.

He quickly showered and changed his clothes, remembering to put on a heavy coat. Harry's house, a rather large four bedroom house that sat a little ways from London; the seclusion was ideal, neighbours were a chore Harry didn't feel like dealing with at present. He stepped out of the house, taking a few steps before turning on the spot and Apparating to a pud he remebered visiting in London—he hoped it was still there, but considering it was a muggle place he couldn't think of any reason it wouldn't be there. Shrieks greeted him as he appeared, he ignored those, walking straight into the Finnigan and up to the bar.

"Whiskey," he said to the bar-keep a tall, ginger-haired man who was in the cliché process of cleaning a glass. The man nodded, grabbing a glass and a bottle of Jack from under the table and putting it in front Harry. He poured it slowly, filling it a quarter way up. "Thanks," said Harry, putting on a false smile. "Though I wouldn't be putting away the bottle." With that he topped it and watched as the barkeeper topped it, this time a little higher than the last.

When he was three glasses in, his head at a place of absolutely no thought. He liked this state, and it was his intention to make sure he stayed in it. "Another, please," he said, his words coming out in a bit of a slur.

"Don't you think you've heard enough?" asked a female voice, Harry turned, not because he wanted conversation but because of her out-of-place accent—a hint of German and American.

Harry shook his head, watching as the blonde frowned. "If I'd had enough, I wouldn't be ordering another," he said, still slurring.

Concern shined in her eyes as she regarded him and Harry quickly looked away and back to his drink, thanking the barkeeper before taking a sip and going back to his thoughtlessness.

"Do you wanna tell me what's wrong?" the woman asked, Harry turned to look at her again, surprised.

"What?"

"I can see that something's wrong, you don't look the part of an alcoholic, so there's got to be something wrong."

Harry stared for a long while, befuddled. "I don't think I like the idea of telling my problems to stranger," he finally said.

She immediately extended a hand, smiling brightly. "Barbara Zimmerman." Harry grudgingly took the hand and shook it. "It's customary that you also tell me your name in these situations," she whispered loudly.

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"There, now were not strangers. So, now do I find out why you're starting down a very dark path," she asked again, her expression changing from being jovial to serious.

"There's a bit more to knowing someone than just knowing their names," Harry said before taking another sip, he wouldn't admit out-loud the irony in his statement seeing as that had been how he'd become friends with Ron. He gulped down the rest of the glass as thoughts of Ron threatened to push through and raised his glass, gesturing for another. He turned back to Barbara. "I'm sorry but, I'm not in the talking mood." With a last gulp of the throat-burning liquid Harry dug out some notes and headed out the door, turning on the spot when he found a nearby alley.

On arrival he noticed that he'd lost a few nails that were already starting to grow back, Adam's blood, he groggily guessed as he headed upstairs to his bedroom.

* * *

"Hello, Harry," said Barbara as she settled beside the younger man who had been glaring into his glass of whiskey. "Fancy seeing you here," she said brightly.

Harry glanced at her, then back at his glass. "Hello," said Harry. It was strange, and Harry vaguely noticed it, but whenever the American born-German raised woman was next to him, he felt a little better, less depressed.

"Wow," she said, her tone sounding a little hurt, "quite the warm greeting."

"Quite," Harry repeated his tone drenched with sarcasm. He took a sip from his whiskey, marveling at how quickly his throat had gotten used to the burn that it no longer felt it; then again, this brand of whiskey—whose name he didn't know, nor care about knowing—didn't have the kick that Fire Whiskey had—he sighed, feeling like slapping himself on the forehead for the stupid mistake. Stop making comparison, he mentally intoned, already fed up of his mood. He'd spent what felt like ten years in Limbo, and in that time he'd already gotten over the fact that he'd died and wouldn't see his family. Why then, was he now torturing himself with feeling depressed?

He shook his head, make a conscious decision to be happy, Harry, he thought. He turned to the woman that was looking at him with unbidden interest, she was pretty—a feeling of shame passed over Harry as the thought, it had felt as if he was betraying Ginny. He quickly abandoned his try at forcing himself to be happy and took a gulp of his whiskey, before fishing out some bills and heading to the door with a muttered goodbye to Barbara.

* * *

He knew he shouldn't have done it, knew that this was a bad idea, but even then he'd felt an odd compulsion. Harry appeared with a soft pop, a bottle of half-filled Jack Daniels in his hand and a glazed look across him. He smelt quite strongly of alcohol, giving him an unkempt look even though he was dressed casually. He eyes the apartment buildings in front of him with contempt, not at the buildings in particular, but at himself. What was he doing here?

He trudged forward, staggering with each step. Alcohol didn't help anymore. It only seemed to make his state worse. It made him dwell on things that he should have been trying to move past. It made him want to look for his family; to make sure that they weren't there. He'd started with Godric's Hollow, Apparating to where his and Ginny's house had stood; he'd been disappointed—even though he'd known the high likelyhood—to find nothing. Not done with torturing himself he'd ext gone to the Burrow—nothing—then the Leaky Couldron—there'd been nothing but a bookstore—then Shell Cottage—nothing—the Hogwarts—nothing—now he was going to the place that had, for a brief period, felt like home, Grimmuald Place.

He reached the flight of stairs that led up to the door, grabbing the rail as he almost stumbled and fell. He scaled up and knocked on the worn wooden door that had '12' nailed on to it. There lights were off, which wasn't an odd sight considering it was well into the night; the people—and Hary hoped, thought he doubted, that one would be Sirius—that lived there were most likely asleep. When a few moments passed without a flicker of movement, Harry knocked again, this time making it purposely loud, he desperately needed to make sure Sirius didn't live here.

What if he does? asked as surprisingly rational part of Harry's mind. What if a person named Sirius Black does live in this house? Will it do you any good to put yourself through that? And Harry found that he didn't. He didn't like the constant dull ache that emanated from his...stomach(?) that didn't sound right, but it was the only way he put some rationale into the feeling. He turned, preparing to turn on the spot when he spotted a familiar head of blonde on the otherside of the street talking to a tall man in a grey suit.

He abandoned Disapparating, choosing instead to at least say hello to Barbara—though in most part it was because he didn't trust the man in the grey suit. "I'm not interested," Harry heard Barbara say as he walked within earshot. She started turning to leave, but the man grabbed her shoulder. Barbara glared. "Let go of me," she said, her tone icy.

"Listen," the man said, his voice a deep baritone, "clichéd as it is, there are two ways this can go; easy, or hard, your choice."

Harry quickened his pace, ditching his bottle of Jack and tried to reign himself in; he didn't want to appear drunk to a potential attacker, especially one that already had three advantages: he was taller, looked stronger and Harry wasn't much in the fisticuffs department. "I think you'd better let the lady go," said Harry, feeling grateful that he didn't slur. Both the man and Barbara turned, surprise flickering on.

"Harry?" she whispered, but the man wasn't paying much attention. Green, glazed eyes stared intently at the suited man.

"This doesn't concern you," the man said forcefully, his hand still holding tightly onto Barbara. "Leave, now."

Harry stepped forward, concentrating hard on keeping himself from staggering. Swiftly the suited man had let go of Barbara and sent a fist towards Harry, there was brief surprise, especially when Harry seemed to effortlessly pull back; dodging it. He might have been thirty years rusty, but he was still an Auror. The suited man quickly recovered from his surprise and shot out another punch that stopped mid-air as the man was suddenly frozen.

Harry stared, confused, before he looked towards Barbara. "We'd better," he started, stopping as he noticed that Barbara too had frozen, her expression stuck at shock. "What the bloody hell is going on," he muttered as he moved to stand in front of the blonde, waving his hand before here eyes to see if they'd follow. They didn't. Harry shook his head, whatever this was, it was godsend, he doubted he would have been able to dodge the man in his inebriated state. He took Barbara's arm and turned on the spot, Apparating back to the house he now called home. The woman still didn't move as the arrived, she didn't even complain about the discomfort of Apparition, she just stood as she had done in front of Grimmauld.

Harry Apparated back, appearing in front of the suited man, he searched his pockets, removing a wallet from his blazer and a holstered gun—Harry didn't think it prudent to leave the man with the gun, especially if he'd be accosting women. He Apparated back to his home, finding Barbara still standing, unmoved. This was one of the weirdest things Harry had ever come across; he placed the gun on the coffee table—inebriation and gun holding weren't two things that went well together—and took a closer look at Barbara. Harry marveled, Barbara truly wasn't moving, no breathing, no blinking; he felt for a pulse and found none.

"What are you doing?" Harry started. "Where am I? How did we get here?Where's..." Barbara was moving, talking. The spell that had hung over her seemed to have totally disappeared, and now, in front of Harry was a confused woman, whom he'd have to tell how he'd gotten her here. He quickly decided he'd play on the 'extraordinary human' bit, and tell her that—it occured to him that he could have just told her he was a wizard without any repercussions, but he'd lived in secrecy too long, he'd rather gotten used to it.

"You should sit down," he said slurring as he hadn't given much thought to controlling his speech. Te worst was over, and he'd escaped unscathed, something that wouldn't have happened if whatever had happened hadn't happened. "I feel I might have a lot of explaining," he slurred hefting himself onto a couch, as he settled in he couldn't help but feel very tired, his eyes very heavy.

For a moment he rested his head against the couch, and blinked, though the blink lasted a lot longer than a blink should.

* * *

There was a crackle and a sizzle that filled the room, but from the way it sounded it was clear to make out that it wasn't coming from the room itself; there was also the very distinct waft of fried bacon and eggs, something that managed to pull Harry from the darkness of sleep. He raised himself quickly, too quickly because his head pounded as he stood; he groaned both hands flying to catch it in case it chose fall off. At least it wasn't as bad as when his mind had been assaulted, he thought, but pain was pain and it hurt.

He pulled his mind back to the situation at hand; someone was cooking in his kitchen. He started in the direction, but paused, surprised, as he spotted a gun laying on his coffee table. He shrugged and took it, he didn't have a wand, and whoever it was might be dangerous.

"—terday afternoon, Kaito Nakamuro, CEO of Yamagato Industries, was murdered. Reports are he was—"

"You're awake," said Barbara and quickly Harry leveled the gun at her, he frowned.

"Barbara, what are you doing here?" he asked.

Her smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that, seeing as you're the one who dragged me off to who-knows-where. And can can you stop pointing that at me," she said heatedly.

"Sorry," said Harry as he did as she'd said. "What did you mean I dragged you here," he asked as he tried to think, unfortunately nothing but blurry images of an empty field, a beautiful loch and a bookstore dominated his mind.

"You don't remember?" she asked, her tone saying she wouldn't believe him if he said he didn't. But it was the honest truth that Harry didnt, he lamely shook his head. She sighed, "That's what happens when you get drunk all the time!" she said louder than was necessary and causing Harry's headache to flare.

"Could you talk a bit softer please?" he asked rubbing his furrowed brow.

"Why?" she asked, still talking loudly. "These are the consequences of becoming an alcoholic, Harry, you have to bear a hangover the next day." She moved to finish the eggs she was making, everyone of her actions making a ruckus.

"I'm going to take a shower," he muttered before leaving for upstairs, gun still in his hands; he reasoned as he walked up the stairs, if the Barbara had wanted to, in any way, harm him, she would have achieved that last night considering he had passed out. He quickly showered, the warm water was somewhat of a comfort against the throb he'd been trying to ignore, and changed his clothes before heading back to the kitchen.

"Nice house," said Barbara as Harry sat opposite her, where a steaming plate sat.

"Thank you," said Harry already digging in. "This is great." She smiled, nodding appreciatively.

"Thanks," she said, though continued to look at Harry expectantly.

"What?" asked Harry when it had gotten to him.

"Last night you told me you'd explain how we got here, and most likely what you were doing at my house. I didn't peg you to be a stalker."

Harry paused as he remembered a well-worn door and the number '12'; then a man wearing a grey-suit that holding tightly onto Barbara. "Your house?" She nodded. "I did a lot of things last night, went to a lot of places, but I don't remember going to your place."

"12 Grimmauld Place?" Harry looked up, shocked. "The guy that was punching you before you just, I don't know, made be here."

"You live at 12 Grimmauld Place," Harry asked, that having been the only thing he'd heard. All of yesterday's emotions came flooding back, all his memories; his Apparating back and forth looking for anything that might point to home. It was made even worse by the fact he knew he still had a century of which he wasn't going to find anything. At least that was if the timeline hadn't changed as James had said.

"Yeah, my father owns the property, but doesn't use it much. I thought I'd steal away there in my little sabbatical."

"Sabbatical from?" Harry asked, liking the feeling of just talking to someone. He hadn't realised it, but he had been really lonely.

She smirked mischievously. "I don't think I like the idea of telling my problems to a stranger," she said in a very good British accent. Harry smiled, he could vaguely remember saying the same thing.

"I suppose I deserved that," he said abashed, he'd been something of a jerk when he'd been drunk.

"That you did, but unlike you, I find that talking helps, even if it is to a stranger," she said.

"So, you're going to tell me?"

"I'm not really sure I should, after all, you haven't explained anything to me."

Harry frowned, trying to think of something to say. "I can Apparate," he finally said, "disappear from one place and appear in another," he explained when she frowned in confusion.

"So, you can teleport?" she said at which Harry nodded, "Anywhere?" she asked and Harry was honestly surprised that she had just believed him, but he shook his head in answer.

"Not exactly, I could Appar—teleport anywhere in the UK, if I'm in the UK."

"Wow, that's so cool. My brother could move metal with his mind," she said and Harry's brow rose. What were the chances?

"Really?" he asked, not hiding his surprise.

"Yep."

"So what can you do?" he asked, powers were hereditary, he'd established that from Peter and his brother Nathan, both of whom had abilities. "What ability do you have, if you have one?"

She thought on it, then said, "I'm an Empath, I can feel other people's emotional states. I've also been known to make people feel better, just by being next to them."

"So, you know how I'm feeling now?" he asked already trying to remember Professor Snape's Occlumency lessons and trying to reign in his emotions. Something he wasn't very good at.

Barbara frowned. "You're weird," she said. "Sometimes I feel such intense emotions coming from you, and then others it's like you're not even there. It's a relief much of the time when I can't feel you," she said and her tone sounded strained when as she said that.

"You can't control your ability?"

"I can, and I can make sure that I don't get overwhelmed, but outright stopping it is something I haven't been able to do yet. That's enough about me, how does teleporting work? And what's with the name Apparition?"

Harry grimaced. "Apparition is uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, but it's easy to get used to; and the name? Well, I'm like an apparition when I appear, I thought the name fit well."

"Uncomfortable, how?"

"Like being squeezed through a really tight tube," said Harry and starting on some orange juice

"I don't remember that," said Barbara. "One minute I was watching you dodge a punch like an expert fighter—incredible concidering you were hammered—then we were in your livingroom and you had your hand on my neck."

Harry choked, coughing hard. He used his arm to wipe the juice that had escape from his nose. "Why would I do that?" he asked, "And just so you know those aren't prerequisites to Apparition."

"Nice to know," Barbara said. A silence hung between them as both were lost in their own thoughts, but it was by no means awkward. She sighed. "I'll be leaving for the States soon," she said.

"Why?"

"The man last night," she said, turning serious. "His name's Eric Thompson, I've never met him before, but my brother's told me about him. He's part of some company that captures people like us."

"The Company, of course," he muttered under his breath. How far did these people operate?

"You know them?"

"Yeah, they got me once," said Harry and decided to leave it like that; Barbara was looking at him with a sympathetic look. She must have been reading his emotions, Harry thought, not liking that one bit; his emotional state was on par with his mind, he didn't like when people invaded his privacy.

"They did something really terrible, didn't they?" she asked, then added hesitantly, "Is that why you stated drinking?"

To lie or not to lie. "Yes," he lied while stamping down the minute guilt that started to form every time he thought about lying. She reached out a hand and took Harry's hand. He stared at it for a second, before guilt quickly overwhelmed him and he pulled it back. "They might be waiting for you back at your house," he said quickly, trying to divert attention from what had just happened, what he'd just felt. "I wouldn't recommend going back."

She nodded. "Yes, that wouldn't be the best of ideas. Do you think you could take teleport me to Germany, my mother lives there. I could probably lay low for a while," said Barbara sounding hopeful. Harry quickly nodded.

"Sure, I'll be headed that way myself. There's someone I've got to check on in Montreal."


	6. Chapter 6

Interlude: Peter Petrelli

Peter had decided long ago that he hated teleportation; the feeling of every one of his organs pressed against him, that he couldn't breathe and the endless darkness that lasted a few moments but seemed to last forever. He hated it all, and wondered how Harry could often use this mode of travel with ease. But it was necessary, he'd accepted that in their small reprieve from Elle and her henchmen; that had been why he'd told Harry to leave. But the worst had happened. Peter didn't know the dynamics of teleportation, but he did know abilities; he knew that the needed concentration, so when Harry had been hit by Elle's electricity he'd thought they wouldn't be able to leave and was surprised when they were pulled into the darkness.

But this time it was different. It wasn't just the tight squeeze around his entire body, it was pain. Peter tried to scream as he felt strips of flesh, chucks of himself being viciously torn off, but nothing came out. The pain stretched across his entire body, sharp and ferocious and not relenting. He wanted to let go, wanted let go of Harry because if he did, maybe he'd get thrown out of the darkness and into any place better. He tried letting go, but he couldn't, some unnatural force seemed to make stick to Harry.

He needed strength, he realised. He needed superstrength, thoughts of Nicki came unbidden into his mind—the mother, the wife whom had shown strength as she had fought against Sylar—and viciously pulled away, watching with panicked eyes as Harry instantly disappeared from sight. For a second Peter was worried, how would he get out of the void, would he be able to get out before he ran out of air? He wanted to get home, Nathan, desperately—

The tube and darkness was suddenly gone and a room, a familiar room had materialised around him; but he wasn't paying attention to that, instead he was screaming at the top of his lung from the pain that was his entire being. He could feel it starting to heal, but the process was too slow; he wanted it to become faster, he just wanted the pain to stop.

A quarter of an hour passed before the pain had dulled to the point where he could think, but his body still wouldn't let him move. Never again, he promised himself, he would never teleport, well maybe to save his live and that was it, but never again. Another quarter passed before the pain had finally stopped and he had fully healed; he rose to his feet, the memory of the pain already starting to fade—spending a month with the sadistic Elle had really helped with that—and looked around the house. It was his apartment, but it was empty, everything was packed away and it looked like it had been done a long time ago.

He headed for the window, opening it with a flick of the hand; he didn't know why but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and it hit him the moment he took to the sky. New York was empty. Totally empty without a soul in sight, that never happened in New York. Never. He took off towards the hospital, where he'd left Nathan only a few hours ago; he needed to check on his brother and then his mother. A sonic boom echoed through the empty streets as Peter went supersonic, clearing over the skyscrapers. Wind rushed past him at unbelievable speeds, though this did nothing to hamper his senses, he swooped down with the large grey building came into sight and landed with slight skid that almost sent him tumbling forward. The doors were closed and locked, the lights on the lower floor off, but Peter could see a flier pasted on.

EVACUATION NOTICE

June 14th 2008

MANDATED EVACUATION ORDER

PLEASE USE THE FOLLOWING EVACUATION ROUTES

TO LEAVE THE CITY IMMEDIATELY

"What?" Peter muttered as he tore off the thing to read it carefully; that couldn't be right. He was in the future, why would he be in the future? He concentrated, thinking of the agent that had attacked him and Harry, he'd noticed that the man could tell where he was even though he'd been invisible, maybe he could use his gift to find Nathan. He concentrated, searching the building for anything that might be Nathan, but nothing came to mind. He guessed it was empty.

He poised himself to take off, but was halted by the screeching of a stopping car; he quickly whirled around, hands already crackling with electricity as spotted four men wearing Hazmat suit rushing out of the car.

"Over there!" one shouted hurrying over towards Peter.

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground now!" another shouted and made to come closer but the lightning in Peter's hands crackled louder, the bright blue light earning the attention of the four men.

"What's going on?" Peter asked trying to restrain his panic.

"Are showing any symptoms?" shouted the first to speak.

"Are you sick?" shouted the other, though none made to come forward.

"Sick, what the hell is going on?" Peter asked, his volume increasing a few levels as the men didn't appear to have heard him.

"All will be explained, sir, turn off the weapon and come with us," said the third of the men, sounding a little calmer than the others. Peter eyed him wearily, but desisted and let the electricity fade out of existence. "Follow us into the van."

* * *

Peter sat rigidly at the table, studying it intently; he felt a little violated with the scrubbing they'd given him, but he understood it was necessary to avoid contamination of this virus the CDC was talking about.

He turned as he heard footsteps, watching as a tall man looking in his late thirties sauntered into the room carrying what looked like a folder. "Peter Petrelli," the man started as he drew closer, "according to these files you're dead."

"What?" asked Peter sounding shocked, where would they have gotten that. But, as he thought about it, it made some sense, if he was in the future, then that would mean he'd disappeared for a year or so. "Never mind, where's my mom and Nathan."

The man shook his head. "First you're going to explain to me how a dead man is walking around New York with no sign of infection."

Peter was quickly on his feet, gouges from clenched fists appearing on the table; the man quickly reach for a gun and leveled it at Peter. "I'd calm down if I were you, Mr Petrelli," he said calmly, without an ounce of fear.

Peter sat down, glaring at the man. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I don't know about any virus."

"Highly unlikely," the man said, "but follow me." He holstered the gun and started walking, Peter followed. "On March 20th 2007, the first case was reported. After that the Shanti virus spread across the globe. A global pandemic." They exited the room Peter had been sitting in and walked down and cold cement hall before stepping into another. "It's killed 93% of the world's population to date. The rest of us live in quarantine praying to find a cure."

Peter shook his head in disbelief. "This can't be happening," he said and the man looked at him with a frown.

"You really didn't know?" he asked as they stopped in front of a large window. What Peter saw chilled him to his core, piles and piles of bodies lay on top of each other on the otherside.

"All these people died from the virus?" he asked, his voice coming out a chilled whisper.

"Yeah, it's been a tough week." Peter looked at the agent disbelievingly, how could all these people have died in a week? How had this happened? Peter followed in a monotonous state as the agent led him off back to where he had been sitting. He just couldn't help the hopelessness that burned in him, but I can stop this, he thought, I travelled once through time I can figure it out again. He closed his eyes, focusing on his time, focused on saving the world. He opened them again, and found that he was still sitting in the cold warehouse.

"Peter," said a whisper of a familiar voice.

"Mom." He quickly got to his feet, hugging her as though he expected her to be dead—and he couldn't help but feel guilty because the thought had flashed through his mind.

"You're alive," she said, her hand tracing her face.

"Yes, but I'm not supposed to be here. This is not my time. How did all this happen?"

A relieved smile appeared on the aged face. "Then you can fix this," she said. "You can fix all of this, save Nathan."

"Nathan's dead?"

Angela sadly shook her head. "He died in the first outbreak. But you can change that," she said hopefully.

Peter nodded and moved back from Angela. He had to go back. He had to save the world. He had to save Nathan.

Peter opened his eyes to find that he was standing on the top of the Deveroux building, looking down towards a busy New York. He couldn't help the broad grin that appeared.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I had always thought that Writer's Block was just some excuse that lazy writers came up with when they didn't feel like writing anything, and indeed that might be the case with me, but for the last few days I have had trouble deciding where the story should go and what changes should result from the diversions that have already happened from canon. I'll admit that I haven't figured that out yet, which is why this short little thing-because it doesn't deserve to be called a chapter-and the chapter after this, are exposition. I'll try for a faster update, but no promises.

* * *

Interlude: Adam Monroe

Adam tried and failed to restrain a smile; the ever persistent tug at the edge of his lips had finally defeated him. Eight of the founders that had imprisoned him were dead and the remaining four, including Maury once he'd lost his usefulness, would too soon meet their ends.

Adam was happy. Happier than he'd been in centuries.

But he was confused, and this was because of one Harry Potter; the teleporter. Adam had been around when the man had been imprisoned, when Angela Petrelli had had to have two Telepaths draw her from her dreams of the Apocalypse. All because of one man, Adam snorted, a teleporter. But Adam wasn't stupid, far from it, four hundred years had given him time to mature his intelligence; he'd come to know that the requisite for a good plot was patience, and that was how he was going to discover the secrets that the teleporter had. Why Angela had thought him such a threat.

A knock on the door interrupted Adam from his musings, he didn't move from his seat, prepared to take off if Elle found him again; from thin air a chubby and balding man appeared.

"It's me," said the illusion of Maury. Adam smiled, keeping back thoughts of betraying the man, he didn't need the Telepath abandoning him, especially since he'd lost Peter. He stood and went to open the door, passing through the image of Maury, Adam wanted to assure himself that his mind knew that there wasn't a real person there. He didn't want to be easily susceptible to Maury's mind-tricks, that would be dangerous.

"Maury," he said with his signature jovial tone. "Good to see you, friend."

The man gave a shaky smile; he looked just like his illusion, the only difference being the rolled-up paper tucked under his arms. "Hello, Adam," the man said nervously. "I got the paintings," he said, pulling them out and almost dropping them. Adam kept his smile in place, choosing to ignore the man's fumbling, it was Maury's mind, after all, that was important.

He took them; the last paintings by Carlos Mendez, one of the founders of the Company. He hated that he had to use the man's gift, a man he had thought a disciple, a man who had abandoned his goal of starting the world anew. But useful was useful.

"Bring them in," said Adam as he gave the man way in. Maury Parkman did as he was told and opened the three paintings lining them on the floor.

All three depicted one man, a short, green-eyed man with messy hair and a scar that had resisted the healing effect of Adam's blood. Harry Potter.

The first did not have much, just the green-eyed man standing, looking towards something with eyes shining with determination.

The second showed the same green-eyed man standing in front of three giant beasts made of bright red fire; he looked at them with no fear, as though they were old friends, guardians. In the background was the logo that Adam knew too well.

The third showed the building that had been Primatech Papers engulfed by flames, and Harry Potter watching the scene with tranquility across his features.

"Intriguing," said Adam, Harry Potter was truly interesting. "We have to find him," he said to Maury and the man quickly nodded. Adam didn't know how, but he was sure Adam would find the teleporter.


	8. Chapter 8

Sidetracked: Saving the World

Harry waited on the front steps of his house, for the first time soberly noticing his front yard; it wasn't much in diversity, but the lily garden was a nice touch. He smiled, for the first time the thought of his family causing him the happy thoughts that had fueled many a Patronus charms. He had, again if he remembered correctly, made the conscious decision to be happy, something that was far easier when he was sober, and had mentally explained to himself that a moping Harry would do no good in finding a way back home. And Harry was sure he'd find a way back home.

He got to his feet, removing dust from his pants that only he could see. He was having misgivings about going to Montreal, there was really no reason to think that Peter would still be there after three weeks, if he even went there after their failed Apparition. Harry groaned at the thought, how could he have just disregarded a friend like that? The man could have lost an arm or been Splinched much, much worse than Harry had, and there was Adam, whom Harry hadn't even spared a thought for.

"No need to feel guilty, Harry," he muttered while trying to keep the tight hold he had over his emotions. Barbara was still in his house showering and Harry didn't know the range of the woman's ability. "The man can heal, and Adam;s old enough that he can take care of himself." But he couldn't help feeling guilty, especially when he remembered Peter saying he had trouble controlling his abilities, and how far Adam had gone in helping a stranger.

"I'm ready." Harry turned towards the door, where Barbara was just coming down the stairs. She walked until he was next to Harry, wearing an excited smile. "How do we do this?" she asked her tone reflecting her excitement.

"You have to hold my hand," Harry said, and the female quickly did that. Harry stared at her and said, "You do remember that I told you this was uncomfortable, right?" Barbara nodded. "And we're going to be doing it a couple of time?" Again she nodded, and Harry shrugged, most young wizards and witches were excited by the idea of Apparition until they actually went through it, he guessed the same would be said for Barbara. Harry dearly hoped that she didn't throw up. "Okay," he said before shutting his eyes firmly tight.

He'd never tried this before, but Luther Hendricks—an Unspeakable that Harry had once worked a case with—had once told him of its possibility. Hendricks had said, if there weren't any border-wards to stop illegal magical transportation, it would be possible to Apparate all over the world using specific destinations. Harry, of course, had run this past Hermione—who was, in his opinion, the smartest witch he was friends —who had said "It's dangerous, but it could work." Harry had never again given it much thought, boarder-wards were as ancient—if not more so—than Hogwarts, crafted by the strongest of ancient magics, so there was no real use to knowing such a secret. But here, where magic didn't exist, there was nothing to stop him.

Harry had, with Barbara's help, searched through the internet for places he could use as Apparition points and found he would need to Apparate three times if he wanted to make it to Berlin. He'd then asked Barbara—because at that point trying to use a computer had gotten to him—to search recent images of abandoned alleys that he could Apparate into without going right into a wall. She'd done this, while tearing the mickey out of him for being beffudled by using the internet, something she called child's play because all you had to do was type was you were looking for and press enter, to which Harry had quickly pointed out it wasn't his fault if he didn't understand the way they put the keys. But no less, he had arrived to Brussels, Cologne and then Berlin, where the Zimmerman property lay.

Harry turned on the spot, not letting any doubts cloud his destination. He was entirely calm, thinking only of his destination. He was calm as the seconds ticked in his mind, the tube lasting longer than it should have. Briefly, the words 'Don't Panic' entered Harry's mind, and he found them very useful words as the tightness passed the one minute mark; but Harry didn't at all let the thought of his destination wander. Not the slightest bit.

Suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the tightness disappeared and Harry found his feet on solid ground.

He let out a breath of relief and opening his eyes. Barbara was looking with, her face stuck between relief,pure terror and fury. "You didn't think that would work," she stated before Harry could ask what was wrong. He didn't answer, but that was answer enough to the woman who could sense his emotion. "And what," she said, her voice rising in pitch, "would have happened if it hadn't?"

"We would've have gotten Splinched," Harry blurted out, her eyes were burning with fury, which Harry guessed was because of his overwhelming guilt. Control your emotions, Potter! he mentally intoned.

"And what," she said, "is that?" Her tone was still burning with anger. Think of a lie. Think of a lie, he recited and he started looking around; they were surrounded on all sides by tall, thick, grey walls that had barbed-wired on top. Harry frowned as he spotted something that looked like a watchtower.

A loud bleeping so much alike to an alarm started and Harry cringed, he'd just Apparated into a prison. Bad, very bad. He closed his eyes, thinking of his next destination and, making sure Barbara's hand was still held firmly in his, turned on the spot. The tightness returned and stuck until a full minute had passed before disappearing. Harry opened his eyes and looked to Barbara.

"Are you okay?" he asked the panting woman; she nodded, though tiredly, as though she'd just finished running a marathon.

"Yes," she said and shivered, "I don't know what just happened. I've never felt that angry before." Harry looked around, making sure they were nowhere near a prison. The alley there were standing in was snow covered and very clean, tall buildings bordering it on either side, neither of which looked like a prison. "What happened?"

"I Apparated us into a prison," said Harry.

Barbara nodded as if that made perfect sense, which to Harry didn't. She must have sensed this because she said, "When there's too much of one emotion it takes over."

"That's why you were angry?" Barbara nodded, and relief flooded Harry, that anger would have certainly gone up a few notches if he told her what Splinching was. "Next stop, Berlin," Harry said, before closing his eyes and thinking of the Zimmerman property. Another full minute, in which Harry in his confidence took to reflect, passed, and the two were now standing somewhere near Berlin—Harry didn't know enough of the location or the name of the small town, or suburb they were in. In front of the stood a manor-like house—the only thing making it manor-like being it's smaller stature—that looked a little bleak against the stark white snow.

"Home, sweet home," said Barbara, the words drenched in sarcasm. Harry looked at her and frowned, she didn't look like someone who was in anyway happy that she was home. She quickly turned, the smile that Harry had gotten used to appearing. "Do you want to come in?"

For a moment Harry didn't answer, weighing what good him accompanying her would do. He found none, only the feeling that he was in some way betraying Ginny. He shook his head, letting go of Barbara's hand. "I've really got to go to Montreal," he said; that was his mission. He had to find Peter to find his wand, then, Harry decided, he'd take down the Company so they would stop harassing innocent supermuggles.

"Okay," she said, sounding disappointed. Harry gave her a small smile before taking a step back. "I'll see you around?"

"Definitely," Harry said and meaning it, he liked her, but first he needed to clear his head, taking down evil seemed about the only thing that could in this case. Harry noted her smile before turning on the spot and starting his four jump trip to Montreal.

* * *

For some hours Harry had walked through the streets of Montreal; for some hours Harry had donned the air of a lost tourist. He shouldn't have expected this would be easy, especially since he had absolutely no idea where Peter was. But he'd continued searching the streets, as if expecting by some massive coincidence he'd run into Peter, or, if not Peter, Adam who might have been able to point him towards Peter's direction. After all the two, it had looked, would have stayed together had they not been attacked.

Harry rubbed his brow, irritated. James could have made this easier, especially since the future man certainly knew where his wand was, but the bastard hadn't, instead choosing to give Harry a quest of all things. Harry didn't want a quest now, nor a mission which had the possibility of sending him around the entire world. He wanted his wand so he would no longer feel useless. He wanted his wand so he could begin on plans to take down the Company.

"Harry?" Harry stopped walking as he heard the familiar voice. He turned, gaped and took back everything bad he'd just thought about James, because if the man had took all this into account, then he was just amazing; Harry noticed the degree of separation he put between himself and James, and quickly rationalised that such genius—if it had indeed been planned—was not him yet. "Harry!" Adam said jovially as the man stepped out of the pub and walked toward Harry, and Harry couldn't help but emulate that smile because he was truly happy to see a familiar face. And it meant that he was going somewhere. "I'd thought they'd caught you."

"I told you, I can take care of myself," Harry said even though that wasn't particularly true and Peter had been the one to do the work.

Adam chuckled loudly. "That you did," the man said, his tone still excited. He gave Harry a run-over with his eyes, then smiled even brighter. "It's good to see at least, that you escaped."

"What about Peter?" Harry asked. "He escaped with me."

"He did?" Harry nodded. "But he isn't with you anymore?" Again Harry nodded, watching as the smile that Adam had donned started to fade. "That is unfortunate," he said under his breath, so low that if Harry were close he would have missed it.

"Truly is," Harry said also in a low tone. It seemed that the man he had thought would be his salvation in finding Peter was a dud; Harry put a tight leash around his emotion as he felt frustration starting to bubble, Barbara wasn't around, yes, but he might as well prepare for the next time they met. Harry wanted to be the picture of calm, or no emotion; whichever he could manage.

"You're looking for him to?" asked Adam, though mostly to himself. "Why?"

"He might have something I want," Harry answered, not even recognising that he was being vague. "Something that can help me take down the Company," Harry said with firm determination. Harry noticed a sparkle in Adam's eyes, a happiness that was so palpable it refused to stay hidden.

"Then you're going to need to see these," said Adam. "Follow me." And the immortal walking, intrigued Harry followed.

* * *

"This," said Adam, hefting a large box with a logo for a company named Primatech Papers, "is some of the information I've been able to get on the Company. Primatech is a front for the Company and it contains the cells we were imprisoned in." Anger started flaring in Harry, but he quickly stamped it down.

"Where did you get this?" asked Harry as he opened the box and quickly browsed through the first file, it was a blue-print of Primatech Papers, but there was nothing that showed the slightest sign that there was something untoward about it. "All of this?" Harry continued gesturing around them. Adam had taken Harry into a storage warehouse filled with old looking crates and few items that looked very valuable.

"I'm old, Harry, very old." Adam's tone was defeated as he said this, and though he did not sound his true age, he sounded old. "And when one reaches my age, they can't help but keep relics of the past."

Harry went back to the box, reading file after file containing a variety of people from a variety of nationalities; from large cities, to villages so rural that Harry would have gone five lifetimes without even finding out about their existence. It truly shocked him that the Company had so much reach. "And I'm guessing this is not even close to everything on the Company? There's more?"

Adam gave a solemn nod. "Although I admire your mission, Harry, I feel I should warn. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to try to take down the Company; because for so long as there has been a Company, there have been people trying to take it down."

Harry glared at the man that stood opposite him. "So you think this is useless?" he asked his tone hard. "Are you saying I should just let them continue to imprison whomever they please?"

"No, no, not at all, Harry. I just want you to know this won't be easy, not in the least," said Adam. "And I'm afraid that it may take up your entire life, endanger your family." Harry's teeth clenched at the mention of his family, family he didn't have anymore, but he quickly let it fade; he was doing this for the innocents, those the Company had just walked over because they could.

"I'm well aware of the risks," he said, and it occurred to him that there would be a lot if he tried doing this alone, but he just as quickly reminded himself he didn't have to. Peter—who was a powerhouse all on his own—and Adam might help him if he asked, it was time to test those waters. "But I'm hoping with your experience and Peter and I's powers we can do what's never been done."

Adam ran a hand through his hair, messing it. He looked at Harry and smiled. "You and Peter are so much alike," he said. "Passionate, and wanting to save the world." He sighed, his eyes going to a far off place. "Once upon a time I was once like the two of you, passionate to save the world, but I lost that as the years passed." He looked at Harry again, looking ashamed. "You won't like me for keeping this Harry, and you'll like the Company even less I suppose." Before Harry could ask Adam walked toward an old looking cabinet and opened a draw, pulling out another folder. He handed it over to Harry. "Thirty years ago I was arrested, and thirty years ago the Company started something that had the potential to kill everyone on earth."

On the file were the details of something called the Shanti Virus; a virus that could strip supermuggles of their abilities and slowly kill them. Many of the Companies resources had gone into studying the virus and mutating it so it would only strip supermuggles of their abilities and not kill them. But, as Adam had said, ambition got the better of them and they created something they called Strain 138.

"This is what you were arrested for," Harry asked. "You tried to destroy this virus?"

Adam nodded. "But I failed," he said. "I was caught before I could even make it to the Vault. I've been working towards finishing what I've started. Destroying it, but without Peter, that's become next to impossible."

"I'll help you," Harry said without an ounce of hesitation. He could already feel blood coursing rapidly through his veins, he couldn't explain it, but he felt in his element right now.

* * *

AN: I hope it wasn't too much of a bore.


	9. Chapter 9

Stupid Thursday

"Do you get tired?" Harry asked watching the man on the driver's seat with tired eyes; the two had just spent countless hours flying from Montreal to Maine, and if that weren't enough they were still on the road driving toward Searsmont. Saying Harry was tired would have been an understatement, and yet, the man beside him looked no less tired than any regular day.

Adam snorted lightly, donning a small smile before it quickly disappeared. Adam had been like that all of the two days—which included their flight—that they had been discussing getting the virus. Adam had told Harry that though he knew where the Vault was without Peter it would be next to impossible opening the Vault without its password. Harry had suggested they first find Peter, if the Company hadn't released the virus yet, then a week or so wouldn't hurt, especially when Peter was of utmost importance to the plan—Harry hadn't mentioned that his logic came mostly from the fact he felt naked going into battle without his wand. Adam had rebuked this, opting instead, to interrogating Victoria Pratt—the creator of Strain 138—with the same methods that she had often used.

Harry had shuddered at that, even unsaid, it was clear what they were going to do and he didn't like it.

"I hope you won't stop me, Harry," said Adam after a long while, Harry frowned and looked at Adam with a raised brow. "I've seen how you are," the man continued, "and I think I've had a good read at your character. Even though you stand for justice, Harry, you show reluctance to kill, something that will do you no good in taking down the Company. I hadn't learned that lesson thirty years ago, and it was for that reason they caught me. I hope, Harry, that you won't stop me when I do what has to be done."

Harry shivered and for the first time saw Adam for the man he was; the geniality that had radiated off him had gone and in its stead was a warrior. For the first time Harry saw how dangerous Adam could be even if he wasn't like Peter who was a powerhouse, because what Adam lacked in power, he made up for in experience. Harry nodded, he could feel it in himself that he wouldn't allow Victoria Pratt to die, because he'd been taught by one of the greatest wizards: No matter how evil a person was, they should be given the opportunity to repent.

"I won't stop what has to be done," Harry said, his voice turning hard and his fatigue evaporating, "but I won't let you kill this woman for anything short of self-defence." Which didn't seem likely in either case, Adam couldn't die and Harry had gotten so accustomed to Apparition that he needed a millisecond to Disapparate.

The silence hung stiffly around them, both looking at the winding road with determination, though in Harry's case he was steeling himself, fortifying himself for what he was about to let happen. They soon turned into a dirt road and the pair were jostled about, not that either noticed; the tall pine trees the had lined either side of the dirt road soon began to dwindle and the first thing that appeared was a large garden, then a large house made of grey stone and with vines creeping artfully up its side. Adam slowly stopped the car and reached into the back seat for a gun. Harry's teeth clenched but he didn't comment, he didn't have a good feeling about this.

They exited, and started walking towards the house. "Don't do anything stupid," whispered Harry as Adam reached for the door, the man's shoulder rigid as his entire body alert. Adam nodded, though wouldn't look at Harry, slowly he tested the door and Harry let out a soft sigh of relief that it wasn't locked. Adam was the first to walk in, and Harry followed as they walked down a short passage which had a door on the left, another at its end and stairs to the right.

Adam checked first the door on the left and shook his head, nothing, and continued to the door at the end; Harry had enough time to notice the door they had passed was a large cupboard. They moved to the door at the end and Adam repeated, his gun ever ready to fire. He nodded and walked in, but stopped short. "Peter?"

"What?" Harry rushed to Adam's side; the door looked out into a roomy livingroom with scattered leather sofas, a large tv and a series of paintings of glorious mountains and tranquil seas. But that wasn't the sight that caught Harry's eye; Peter stood calmly in the middle of the room, which was odd for someone who had a gun pointed at him.

"Adam?"

BANG.

Peter flew off his feet and landed across the room, not moving; three simultaneous shots so close to Harry's ear that he could hear nothing but a sharp ringing in his ear. Harry opened his eyes, not even realising that he'd had them closed, and his heart almost stopped; the red-headed woman, he assumed was Victoria, was on the floor, a steady stream of blood pooling the floor.

"You killed her," Harry said, his heart thundering beneath his chest; for all that Harry was used to the violence of the wizarding world this was the first time he'd ever seen anyone shot in front of him, and if he were honest, it was terrifying. A spell he could dodge. A spell he could intercept, but a bullet, with a bullet you only hoped that whoever shot at you was a terrible marksman.

"If you haven't noticed, she shot Peter," Adam quickly returned, his voice hard. He walked into the room, ignoring Harry, and went to check on Peter. "And he would have shot you given the chance."

"Then you bloody shoot her in the leg!" Harry said unable to keep his voice from rising. "Or the arm for, Merlin's sake, you don't just kill her!" He wasn't sure if she was, but he didn't see signs of breathing so the conclusion was foregone. As if to make a point Peter chose this moment to wake up with a start, breathing harshly in.

"Are you alright, Peter?" Adam's genial tone was back as he said this, and Harry stared at him for a long while, his stomach doing a flip. He was honestly disgusted, Adam didn't even show an ounce of remorse, it was as if the man had just swatted a fly. Harry had known a man who didn't show any remorse and that he was making the comparison between Adam and Voldermort wasn't a good sign.

"I'm fine," Peter said as his rubbed the fading scars. "Hurts like hell though."

"You get used to it," said Adam as he helped Peter to his feet. Peter's eyes found Victoria, he frowned.

"You didn't have to kill her," said Peter and Harry was glad someone was seeing from his point of view. Adam was too negligent with life, maybe being immortal had jaded the man, hardened him too far beyond the point Harry could understand. Adam didn't answer just ground his teeth together and looked at Peter, then Harry, with disappointment.

"Like I told Harry, I'll do what needs to be done." Harry just shook his head and left the house, he didn't like looking at the dead woman, especially knowing it was one of the good guys that had done that to her. Harry heard footsteps following him and turned to see Peter.

"It's good to see you, Peter," said Harry, it eased him to see that the man was up and about, it lessened the guilt of not looking for the man. He turned to look at the man only a few inches taller. "I'm sorry I didn't look for you."

Peter shook his head, he was wearing a sort of strange smirk whose exact emotion Harry couldn't have placed. "I doubt you'd have found me," he said. "When we travelling through that dark void of yours I managed to pull free and landed in the future."

"What?" Harry sounded surprised, and rightly so; time travel was one of those things that were near impossible, even by magic standards. It took an exceptionally long time for even Unspeakables to craft Time Turners and even with those you could only squeeze out a few hours, but Peter could do that, without any aid of Time Turners or the like, purely on his own. It suddenly made sense how James had managed to travel to the past and build his house, but shouldn't that have meant Peter also had to be there to carry him back?

"Yeah," Peter continued not noticing Harry's state of befuddlement. "I met a Time Traveler once and got his ability."

"Time Traveler?" And even though he knew it was definitely possible, his mind still couldn't wrap around the power that these muggles had; some part of Harry really wished wizards and witches existed on this world just so he could see Lucius Malfoy's face at the discovery of suppermuggles, or Voldermort's if he ever found out that there was a muggle that had what he'd always strived for.

Peter nodded. "I only got back four days ago," he said turning serious. "The future's bad, Harry, very bad. There's a virus there that wipes out almost everyone."

"Strain 138," Harry said in almost a whisper. Peter turned to look at him, confused.

"You know about it?"

"Adam does," and at the mention of the man's name Harry couldn't help but notice he was still in this house, "he was trying to destroy it thirty years ago, but as the Company didn't take too kindly to that idea." Harry was frowning, the determination to take down the Company refueled. "I'm going to try to bring them down," he said, "and I'm hoping I might have your help." He'd asked Adam to join in his endeavour but he was already having second thoughts about that.

For a long moment there was silence, Harry looking at Peter expectantly; he could manage without him once he got his wand, but a man who could do almost anything would be an invaluable asset. "First we stop the virus," Peter said as Adam finally came out of the house, he had a cellphone in his hand. Harry nodded at Peter's statement, that, above all else, was a given.

"Our next location," said Adam, giving the phone to Harry; on it was the picture of the front entrance to Primatech Papers. "If you'd do us the pleasure, Harry."

Harry gave a nod, taking in every detail of the picture; he'd vaguely explained how Apparition worked to Adam as they were preparing to take destroy the virus."Okay then, time to save the world and what not," said Harry as he handed back Adam's phone. Adam took hold of Harry's shoulder and it was a few more seconds before Peter shakily did the same. Harry turned on the spot, disappearing with a faint pop.

* * *

The three easily maneuvered their way around the crowded company, their pace sedate and confident, to give the perfect illusion of belonging. But they did look out-of-place in the throng of grey-overall dressed employees of Primatech, who meandered about, some carrying folders while others pushed around large boxes with what Harry assumed must have been paper inside.

"This doesn't look like the place you'd store a virus that had the potential to destroy the world," said Peter voicing Harry's thoughts. The place looked too mundane to have ulterior purposes, but that was the best place to hide wasn't it? Harry thought, in place sight, that had been the way wizards had done it for centuries.

"Paper Company's a front," Adam explained to Peter. "The good stuff is three floors down; laboratories, jail cells—" Adam stopped mid-speech and Harry felt stillness surround him; this spell was vaguely familiar, but he didn't remeber when he'd felt it before. He turned to see that Peter was moving.

"Is this you?" Harry asked the surprised looking man, but that was answer enough.

"Peter Petrelli?" Both Peter and Harry whipped around, Peter's hands already crackling with electricity, but the electricity faltered, diminishing in intensity with Peter's confusion.

"Hiro?" The man, Hiro, was slightly pudgy bespectacled man dressed black jacket, black pants and carrying a black sheathed sword on his back. Harry, who'd long had bad experiences with people dressed in black cloaks, had noticed that this was a theme in this world, even Peter and Adam were dressed in black, it made Harry, who was wearing blue jeans, a gold shirt and a red hoodie, stick out. "What are you doing here?" asked Peter and Harry, though confused at the spell of stillness—though he guessed that it might have had something to do with time travel—and why it didn't affect him, decided to stay out of it.

"Adam Monroe killed my father," said Hiro his confusion at seeing Peter evaporating and suddenly turning bad-ass; Harry was honestly surprised at the change, "and for that he must pay." Peter's bolts crackled louder at the statement and Harry was instantly on alert as the man's hold on his sheathed tightened; he really wished his wand would appear right now.

"I can't let you do that," said Peter, he too changing into something of a warrior; Harry wondered, and quickly chided himself for wondering at such inopportune times, if he too changed like that when he was prepared to fight.

"Then you have chosen the wrong side." The man quickly drew his sword, disappearing in the same instant. Harry guessed his intent and turned on the spot, appearing next to Adam, grabbing him, and disappearing just as quickly to Peter's side; Hiro's sword, which Harry hadn't even notice appear, missed him by meer inches. Peter shot out a bolt of electricity but before it could hit Hiro, the man disappeared, appearing almost instantly a short distance away. "Why are you protecting him?" the man said almost pleadingly.

"Adam's my friend."

"He was my friend too. Four hundred years ago, he betrayed me and will betray you too," said Hiro, his bad-assness disappearing as he said this but quickly reforming. "He must die." Hiro disappeared and Harry grabbed Peter's arm and turned on the—Hiro appeared in front of the him, put his hand on Harry and in a flash the scenery changed and Harry was standing in front of a diner.

"Bullocks," he muttered but didn't give in to the confusion that threatened to overwhelm him; he turned on the spot, for the first time not caring if he didn't know how far he was from Primatech, the world was at stake. He appeared just in time to see Hiro with his sword at Peter's throat.

"—here. We're are gonna stop it." He heard Peter say but he didn't much care, what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to fight this? A man who could Teleport faster than he could, and had a bloody sword for Merlin's sake. There was a rush of motion, sounded exploded around him as he noticed that everyone was carrying as if time hadn't stopped.

"Hiro?" said Adam, said man was laying on the ground, unconscious, and his sword was in Peter's hand.

"He froze time, said he knew you," said Peter suspiciously.

"And that you killed his father," Harry added as he walked to the two. It was odd, but the worker didn't even spare them a glance, they just continued their work as though this was a regular occurence.

"True," said Adam, "all true." He looked at Hiro and pulled off the man's holster, taking the sword off Peter. "He was my friend," he said, continuing to walk in the direction they'd been walking before Hiro's arrival, "a very long time ago." Harry and Peter followed, waiting for Adam to continue.

"And?" Harry said when it looked Adam wouldn't continue.

"And his father was Kaito Nakamura," Harry could remember hearing the name, but he couldn't remember where, "he was one of the Company's Founders."

"That doesn't explain why you killed him," said Harry and Adam sighed, frustration showing on his face.

"He was trying to stop me," Adam said. "The man tried to kill me." Harry didn't buy it, not one bit and he voiced this. "I heal, Harry, I'm not immortal in the sense that I can't die. I'm immortal because I don't age. The Founders knew how to kill me." Harry didn't speak; he had nothing to say. The man was perfectly in his right to kill in self-defence, even though he wouldn't have opted for that option himself; there were always other ways to defend yourself. Harry head some part of himself snort, yeah, it said, and how do you protect yourself against a time travelling teleporter? That too he couldn't answer.

They walked into an elevator, an awkward silence reverberating as it made its way down. The door slid open, revealing a long cement hall that had nothing in the form of doors, just low lit light; the moment they were out the elevator quickly shut and alarms blared.

"They're expecting us," said Adam but continued forward, Harry and Peter at either of his sides. A guard rounded the corner, a gun in his hand but before he could even point it at them he was thrown off his feet and slammed into a wall with a thunk. He clattered on the ground and didn't move, except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. The three men hadn't stopped though, they continued walking, following Adam who managed to easily make his way in the identical hallways. They ran into a few agents, Peter making short work of dealing with them.

"Warning! Security breach! Unauthorized personnel entry!" The sound echoed throughout each hall the turned into, the lights having turned a deep red that gave what they were about to deal a moive-esque feel to it. But the sound was really annoying; it made thinking an impossible task.

"Can't you make that stop?" he asked, his question directed more at Peter than at Adam, after all Harry was beginning to think Peter was omnipotent. Peter's hands crackled and he shot a bolt of electricity at what like a fusebox; the irritating repeating sound cut off and the hall darkened, losing its red hue. They took another left and a large metallic door stood at the end; Harry frowned as a farmiliar feeling washing over him, a feeling that could only be described as sweet. Magic, and it was coming from behind the large, thick metallic doors that looked impenetrable. Harry looked at Peter, and it finally made sense why James had wanted him to find Peter, because without Peter there was definitely no way he would have been able to get behind those doors and get, what he was sure, was his wand.

"Well," said Adam looking at Peter, "you're the only one of us that can get this thing open." Peter still looked suspicious but he didn't say anything; he closed his eyes, head tilting a bit to the side and extended an arm. He took a breath then; the door groaned, rattled and shook, then went silent. He took another breath; the door groaned louder than before, rattle, shook and went silent. He took another breath; the door groaned, then popped, the metal warped and the sound popping bolts replaced the groan. The sounds didn't stop only rising until the door started slowly moving a the Vault behind it becoming visible.

Peter stepped back, fatigue showing. "Go, get the, virus," he said through haggard breaths.

Hiro suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I must stop you Kensei," he said and Peter was tiredly raising his hand, but Harry was faster; he appeared next to man, grabbed his arm and turned on the spot, and appeared in the New York alley. He let go of the teleporter and turned appearing back on the doorway only for Hiro to do the same; he groaned rather loudly, the guy just didn't give up.

"DOWN." Harry reacted instantly, dropping to the ground just as Adam gave a harsh slash of the unsheathed sword; Hiro disappeared before the sword could reach him. "Peter, hold him," Adam ordered as Hiro appeared again behind Adam; the man was sent flying and stuck onto a wall. Hiro groaned but Hiro's focus didn't budge, the teleporter didn't move.

Harry rose to his feet, Adam had walked around him; he started to turn, intent on getting his wand which was almost calling out to him, but Harry stopped as he saw a beefy man, who looked more on the fat side than muscular, intently walked into the hallway behind Peter; a look of focus appeared on him as he looked at the back of Peter's head. Hiro dropped on the ground, and Peter looked confused before whipping around and shooting an intense gaze at the man. Things were escalating farther than Harry had hoped with him wandless; there were too many powerful people. Quickly, he turned and entered the Vault; it was a large room with many drawers that had glass doors. Adam was standing to the far left, holding a small vial and studying it intently; he looked up as Harry entered but Harry didn't pay him much mind; his eyes were stuck on long, thin, knobby stick that continued to call out to him. Harry felt he could just reach out, and the wand would just—the glass door popped open and wand zoomed into Harry's open hand.

He didn't have time to feel surprised at his bout of wandless magic, instead he was elated at the prickly feeling that ran comfortably up his wand, warming him. Momentarily all battle was forgotten; forgotten until Hiro popped into existence.

"_Stupefy," _A fiery red bolt shot out with a whoosh that made Harry's hairs stand on end, at that moment he knew why so many had fallen prey to the power of this wand. His wand. The Elder Wand.

Hiro disappeared before the hex hit; the stunbolt hit and shattered one of the glass doors. Hiro appeared again and grabbed Harry before he could react; Harry turned just as the scenery suddenly changed to a valley of grass, and he was in the Vault again, watching the vile Adam had been carrying an inch from the ground.

"_Accio," _The vile stopped before it could hit the ground, but didn't move toward him. It stood in mid-air, the same spell of stillness on it that Harry felt when time was stopped. He looked around, looking for Peter, or Adam who wasn't in the room.

"Today's Thursday," said Peter's voice, though it was harder, battle-worn. Peter suddenly stood beside the vile, he was wearing different clothes Harry noticed; he looked at Harry who was shaking his head.

"No it isn't," he said confused at the non sequitar.

"Not literally," said Peter and the he sighed, "I don't know what it means, but the future you said you'd understand, and that you wouldn't fight me before I sent you back." Harry, trying to remember something about a thursday, then it hit; he went back in time on a thursday, a stupid thursday. But James had implied he'd been a hundred years in the future; what had changed since then?

James had spoken to him instead of leaving a note; but why would that change anything? Why would he need to go back earlier because he'd spoken to himself? He couldn't ask Peter this, it sounded like his future self hadn't much told Peter anything except get past me to the past, so instead he asked, "Why now?"

"You didn't succeed," said Peter. "That summoning thing you do worked too late, the vial had already broke before it got to you."

"So the future's still bad?"

Peter nodded. "But you can fix it," he said confidently, starting to walk toward Harry he placed a hand on Harry's chest. "Make sure I go back, that's most important." Harry disappeared and in a second—though no time had passed—Peter was gone and the vile touched the ground, it clattered but did not break, even as Peter hurriedly barged into the room, his heart hammering at the sound of glass that still hadn't faded. Luck, it seemed, was on their side; he reached out a hand and the vile rose and floated to his hand.

"Is this it?" said Nathan who had just run in along with Matt Parkman.

"Where'd those guys go?" the mind-reader asked, the only sign that a battle had been fought was shattered glass.

"They're gone," said Peter feeling an overwhelming amount of betrayal; he considered those two his friends and they had ony been trying to release the virus. He swallowed as his betrayal soon turned to guilt; he'd seen what the virus could do, and he'd almost been the cause of it.

"Peter, you're it's not your fault," said Nathan as though he knew exactly what Peter was thinking. "You didn't know what they were planning, you were just trying to destroy the virus. Now, finish the job."

"Step back," said Peter as he laid the vile between his hands; they flashed white and brighter still as they tried burn through the glass that seemed to be resisting. The white soon began to fade, Peter opened his hand and a puff of smoke rose up; there was nothing but dust of the vile and the virus, though, most peculiar, the dust had a symbol drawn in the middle: A circle with a line through it, all enclosed in a triangle.


	10. Chapter 10

A Conversation with the Dead

Harry needed sleep, that was the first thing that became clear to him when he suddenly found himself standing at the top of one the many skyscrapers in New York—and how he knew it was New York, he wasn't entirely sure. He looked down at his wand and smiled, at least now things would be easier. At least now he could tackle any problem that came with the confidence he'd always shown as an Auror.

Harry's wand twitched and moved as though drawing the top half of a circle. "_Accio_ newspaper," he said and he felt a prickling warmth run down his wand. He brightened, some deeper part of him—further than his insecurities in battle—fulfilled; he hadn't realised it, but he'd really missed magic. There came a sharp whistling and Harry turned around to look just over the building, a folded newspaper was easily flying towards him and it stopped just before it slammed into his face; it opened and continued to float in front him.

Two months. Two months he'd gone back, some part of him still was shaken about the idea of time travel. It was too dangerous, even now that he was here he was worried that he might change too much; make the future far worse than it already was, because he'd already done it hadn't he, or at least was going to by speaking to the Harry of this time. But he just couldn't not do that now could he? The timeline needed to be preserved, so he still had to talk to himself, build that bloody house he was supposed to build—and this struck him as off because he had no bloody knowledge of building houses—and deal with the Company, he was mostly looking forward to the last of those three.

But first was the issue of sleep he needed sorted, if it was two months in the past then that meant he, Adam and Peter were still being kept by the Company; he felt a rise of anger at that but quickly pushed it down. Anger, even righteous, was a useless emotion, it made a person predictable and prone to making mistakes, and there was absolutely no room for mistakes with an organization as large as the Company. He turned on the spot, Apparating to the apartment they had used just after their escape. The place was much the same, drab and not much in the way of furniture, but it was private and it had a bed, and so was enough for Harry. It started with a flick, and muttered Latin word and it was nine charms later, one of which was _Scourgify_, that Harry threw himself on the new-looking bed.

Time was not something Harry was worried about as he sat in one of the many cafès that filled New York, it was a small establishment though from what he noticed business was doing good. He been sitting for the past hour just taking time to enjoy the moment of peace and trying to sort out his plans for the future; the first of course, was Strain 138. Yes, he knew where the virus currently was, and getting it would be as easy as turning on the spot, but he felt apprehensive about just going to Odessa and destroying it. He'd giving the issue some thought, scrounging up what he could remember about his previous trip in time, and found that he'd already done what he was supposed to do and he'd made it look like he hadn't done anything. If that was true, then it meant he'd already found a way of making sure the virus vial didn't break and the virus itself wasn't released.

Harry jabbed his wand at the Muggle-Repelling Charm that he'd put around himself and gestured for one of the waitresses. "How can I help you today?" said the waitress with a bright smile and her raven hair in a neat bun.

"Another cup, please," said Harry as he gestured for his empty cup, for a brief moment she looked confused but that quickly disappeared and she told Harry she'd be back in a minute. _You know this is wrong,_ said some part of him that sounded very much like Hermione. _You're abusing your power, Harry!_

Harry snorted. Yep, that was Hermione, but he didn't pay much attention to it, desperate times called for desperate measure, he thought, and getting money was not a task felt he had time for. He had more important things. Back to the issue of the virus, it didn't seem plausible that the Company would allocate such miniscule protection to a threat as large as the virus, especially with teleporters, who didn't respect the sanctity of a door. There had to be something more that made the Vault impossible to get into; absently Harry took a sip of the coffee the waitress had placed on his table and renewed his charm. So he needed more information on the Vault, which wouldn't be too hard to get seeing as he knew at least two people who were founders of the Company and on top of that, knew exactly where one was. He'd have to pay Victoria Pratt a visit.

Second, was the house he had to build. That he would be hard, very hard since he didn't know how long it took to build a house and he had absolutely no experience in crafting one, but it would be easy to hire people to do the job for him and that took him to the most important fact he was seemingly overlooking: He needed money, and fast money none of that hard, long work and patience that one usually resorted to; the idea of robbing a bank flashed through his mind, he'd done it once an succeeded, it would be a cinch with a muggle bank. But his morals, which took on Hermione's voice again, were louder in saying no and shouting slanderous words about muggle-baiting and being no better than Blood Purists, so he decided against it. He'd have to find a way to have to this further thought.

Third, and most important of all, taking down the Company. Though Harry had been adamant about this, his resolve was starting to falter a little. How had he thought he'd do that? How hd he thought that would work? The Company, Harry had realised, did do good even thought they had many blunders against them. Adam had said they arrested criminals and had done so for at least thirty years by Harry's calculations. If he took them down, then that would mean all those criminals went free, and that wasn't something that Harry could, in his right mind, do. Instead he was beginning to think it would be a better idea if he started his own supermuggle organization that would inform supermuggles about their abilities, and if they wanted, help them to gain control; but this too would require financial backing. Something else he needed to remember for later thought.

Harry stood, ended his spell and proceeded to walk sedately from the little establishment. He turned into an alley, check left, then right, before turning on the spot, Apparating to the home of one Victoria Pratt. He appeared with a soft pop on what he assumed was the boundary of Victoria's yard, and started walking towards the home, resolute and his wand in his hand—the woman was quick with a gun he remembered and he didn't feel like being shot. He got to the door, gave it a few curt knocks and waited.

It was a few minutes before the door was opened and a taller red-headed woman, maybe in her late forties, was standing in front of him, carrying the shotgun that would shoot Peter. Harry smiled, ready to act the lost fool, but the shocked look she donned was enough for him to know she knew who he was. The gun suddenly went up, but Harry was faster, his wand raised and a scarlet light shot out and slammed into the woman. She flew back, the shot-gun wrenched from her hand and bother clattering on the floor.

"I see you know me," he said, sauntering into the house. The anger that he had pushed down flared again and he couldn't help but want a little vengeance. "That will make things easier." Victoria was raising herself from the floor.

"What do you want?" she said, her voice quivering and she looked at him with panicked eyes.

"Information," said Harry, he flicked his wand and there were a series of bangs that me from around the house and the squelching noise of each locking. Harry still couldn't believe how powerful the Elder Wand was, it made even the hardest tasks desperately easy, as much as what his Holly wand was powerful, it was nothing compared to the Wand of Destiny. "About the Company," he continued, "about the Vault, about why I was locked up for thirty years." His voice went higher at the last.

She shook her head vehemently, her shock easing and her shoulders straightening. Defiance, though there was a touch of weariness as her eyes would sometimes drift down to his wand. "No," she said, and Harry shook his head, maybe he should have momentarily skipped the other questions and just asked why he was arrested. "I won't," she said her voice wavering slightly.

"I was hoping you'd make this easy." Harry flicked his wand up and a green light shot out, the woman jumped to the side but with the small hallway there wasn't much space to dodge. It caught in the shoulder and, as if caught by an invisible rope, she was suddenly hung by a leg mid-air; she revolved slowly until she was facing Harry. Harry conjured a comfy sofa and took a seat—yes he was using magic a bit too much but it was so damn fun. He stared at the woman who was already starting to look a little red.

"You know I could just torture you," Harry said as he gave the woman a level stare. "I can do that you know, make you feel pain so great that your mind gives up and loses sanity. But I haven't nor do I want to do that, all I want from you is information, Victoria, then you get to continue with your perfect little hermit life." She didn't answer only stared with firm eyes; Harry heard it took an hour before someone died from being hung upside down but it only took three minutes before the headaches started and got worse by the minute; torture yes, though nothing akin to the Cruciutus Curse and he pushed down the voice that said he was being hypocritical, this woman had made him sleep for thirty years, ten of which had been torture far greater than what he was doing now. She deserved it.

Fifteen minutes passed, silence radiating the small hall and Victoria looking a brighter red and her eyes beginning to water. "_Libercorpus," _he muttered and she fell hard on the floor, she didn't move.

"You're not dead, nor do I believe you're unconscious." She still didn't move. "_Innervate." _She shot up and looked around, confused then she saw Harry, she snorted sounding weak.

"Was that supposed to make me talk? I've been through worse believe me."

"Then you leave me no choice," Harry said, dreading as he was about to break a cardinal rule. "I've never done this before, but I know the spell. I'm sorry to tell you this..." He leveled his wand the woman who looked like she wanted stand and bolt, "but it will hurt. A lot. _Legillimence!...  
_

"Victoria," she stopped at the voice and turned, already irritated at it all. She loved Genetics she would admit but the constant pressure that was always put on her was getting on her nerves; between a cure for the Shanti Virus and Ability Generation, she didn't have any time to just be.

"Yes?" she said, not hiding her annoyance. She turned and met the shorter, brown haired man, Arthur Petrelli. Honestly, the man gave her the creeps, when she'd first joined the Company she was sure Arthur hadn't had an ability, but now he was a telepath. That didn't just happen.

He smiled, and Victoria couldn't shake the feeling he was reading her mind. How she hated telepaths. "Can we talk in private?" he asked innocently, but that just escalated the creepy factor. Se thought about saying no, but that quickly turned into a yes. She nodded and led the man to her small office.

"How can I help you, Arthur?" she asked.

"I have," he started slowly, "a little assignment I want you do." His words were her entire attention, she had to please Arthur to the best of her ability, it was a compulsion; his wish was her command. "I want you to study Scarhead and tell me of anything peculiar you may find."

She nodded—

Harry felt a vicious force push him from the woman's mind; he staggered back and shook his head. That, had been strange. But at least his little foray into the woman's mind had given him something new about the Company; they had telepaths, three to be exact, and those would be very hard to handle considering his pathetic Occlumency shield—and it finally made sense the terrible force that had felt as though it had been squeezing his head when he and Peter had been attacked. He'd need to work on those aswell, it didn't do to have glaring weaknesses.

Victoria was splayed on the floor, breathing hard as though she'd been running. Harry leveled his wand at her again. "I give you the chance again, Victoria, you could tell me what I want to know or I could give this mind-reading thing another try."

"No," she ground out through haggard breaths. "I can't tell you."

Harry sighed. "_Legillimence..._

Victoria smiled as she drew the girl's blood. It would be hard for anyone to tell that she was sick, that she wouldn't make it past this year, but Victoria pushed those thoughts back of her mind; she needed to keep her thoughts positive so her façade wouldn't falter. The girl was quiet not even flinching as Victoria pulled the needle out.

"Thank you, Shanti," she said still smiling brightly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You can go to your father now." The girl nodded not speaking and skipped out of the door as though this was just another day, and indeed it was. Victoria went and placed the bag of blood she'd drawn and put it in the fridge, making sure she had it labeled, before locking the fridge; what Shanti had, she had to fix it, she couldn't stand to see the girl suffer silently...

"Have you found anything?" asked Arthur in a low voice. She almost felt like she was cheating every time she met with Arthur. It was always in secret, sneaking around. It was thrilling, and she hoped Arthur wasn't reading her thoughts right now. Back on track Victoria, she mentally told herself.

"I haven't seen anything particularly different about him," she said and frowned at Arthur's disappointment. "But, and I'm not sure of this," which wasn't true, she had an almost benign knowledge in Genetics, sometimes she would just know things. But she was befuddled by the sleeping man, "it seems that there's something missing in his genes. A blank spot."

"A blank spot?" Arthur repeated scratching the light buzz of a beard. "And what would that mean?"

She shrugged and huffed, more to herself than Arthur, she didn't like not knowing. "I have absolutely no idea," she said. "There isn't supposed to be anything there in the first place, but there is, and every time I try looking at it I find that there's nothing."

Arthur frowned, then his face scrunched in concentration; his jaw clenched. "When's the last time you've been around Maury?" he asked with a hard voice.

"I don't know, we don't talk much...

Charles stared at her with knowing eyes then looked to Daniel and Bob. "Her mind is no longer her own," the man said in that genial tone he always had even as he got weaker everyday. "Arthur over steps his bounds."

"What should we do about him?" asked Bob.

"What can we do? He is perhaps the most powerful of us all." Daniel made his way over to her and touched the top of her head. "You deserve the clarity...

Harry pulled himself out, his breath was just as hard as Victoria's, sweat forming at his forehead. He wiped it off and stared at the woman that was now unconscious, this was getting him nowhere, the memories were all over the place, most of which made little of what he needed. He levitated the woman and led her to what he assumed was the main bedroom; he'd continue this tomorrow. He turned on the spot and returned to the shabby apartment.


	11. Chapter 11

Getting Things Done

Harry appeared with a soft pop, rubbing his brow furiously and trying to stave off the coming headache. He truly did not like Legillimency, the technique just made his head pound; the jumbled memories that played in real-time with such intense randomness that it was like being hit with a Confundus Charm. Then there were the feelings themselves, every time Harry went through a memory in which Victoria was controlled by a telepath—and that happened a lot to the woman—he had to resist the urge to obey. Harry was now thankful of his Occlumency lessons, pathetic as they had been, without them he didn't think he wanted to know what would have happened.

He needed a break, and Victoria more than him. Harry had charmed what was akin to an Age-Line around the woman's yard, though this particular charm wouldn't allow anyone who wasn't magical to pass through. She still hadn't told him anything, though Harry had found out quite the bit about the Company. The Company had three main facilities, one in Odessa, which was under Primatech Papers, one in New York, Primatech Research, and the last a training facility in Alaska. Harry had also found that he'd been kept in the Research Department before he being moved to Primatech Papers, in one of their many sleeper cells; he still hadn't found out why he'd been arrested though. He'd also counted quite seven founders: Maury Parkman, Daniel Linderman, Victoria Pratt, Kaito Nakamura, Charles Devereaux, Carlos Mendez and Arthur Petrelli—it had been a shocker to find out a man with Peter's surname worked at the Company, but he'd come to the conclusion they couldn't be related. Peter hadn't seemed to know much about the workings of the Company.

Harry really needed to get his head straight. He needed to start working on the house, doing something creative with magic might be the break he needed; Harry summoned a cup from the drawer and tapped it three times, muttering _Portus_ under his breath, it gave a rattle in Harry's hand, glowing a bright blue that quickly faded.

"Three...two...one." Harry's feet suddenly left the ground and the world around him became a blur of wind and colour; it felt as though Harry's hand was stuck to the cup by a powerful magnet. It was over as quickly as it had started; his feet found uneven ground and Harry stopped himself from losing his footing. He let out a sigh, Port key was still the worst method of transportation in his opinion, give him a broom any day, and he did miss flying. But he pushed those thoughts back, he was here to get away from his problems, build a future home for his past-self.

He smiled as he saw the familiar field, though it wasn't neatly cut or had lilies placed in front of his cobblestoned house; the clearing was darker, he noticed, the trees didn't allow much light to pass and it made the rundown house that stood in the middle look a bit malevolent. The house was fixable, and Harry let out a silent sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to build a house from scratch in less than a month, especially with no money. But at the moment he didn't give that much thought; the house was salvageable, but it would take countless Mending Charms, something that would be made possible with the Elder Wand. Harry started with the lower rooms of the house, giving some light thought to why it felt so right that the wand was his.

He was the Master of Death. James had said he would have a vague idea when he got the wand, but it had hit him quite clearly when he'd thought about it; something that confused him though, where were the rest of the Deathly Hollows? Where was his Cloak of Invisibility or the Resurrection Stone? He'd have to find those after he was done with the house and the virus.

* * *

Gaunt was the man known as Julien Dumont, his skin stretched sickly across his body; his blond hair thin and unhealthy, flopped over his face and an oxygen mask that covered half his face visible. Julien was hung, as he had been for the past nineteen years, to a device that left him suspended, with many machines flickering and flashing, beeping and pinging at intervals. Julien, though the man did not know, was the main source of the Dumont System, meaning that the man who could clone himself was being used to fuel the Company's personal army.

Harry had found out a day ago about the man, and he couldn't in his right mind leave the man—who was, as far as Victoria knew, repentant of his crimes and had worked with the Company in show of that—suffer while the Company gained; it might not have been much, Harry thought, but this was his first action in taking them down.

Harry appeared with a faint popping sound in the white and blue coloured hall of the Primatech Research facility; his person heavy with a Disillusionment Charm, stealth was of the utmost importance on this mission. He was in the Dragon's Den, as the saying went, and getting caught was something Harry couldn't afford. He started his wand in a motion that had become second nature, three plumes of fire erupted from his wand, twisting and contorting until three giant shapes were looking into thin air: a dog, giant in size, a doe and a wolf.

"Create a diversion," Harry said to the fire animals, "don't kill anyone." The doe nodded and was the first to run off, the wolf and dog following close behind. Harry started at a slow walk, working on the crazy memories he'd gotten from Victoria. Julien was a prisoner on level 5, where all the hardcore supermuggles were kept, and that would mean a guard he'd have to take down. He dearly hoped Julien hadn't been moved.

A minute into his walk down the empty halls that had so many doors, alarms blared and the annoying monotonic voice repeated that there were intruders. Harry ignored it and dodged the agents that would, at intervals, speed by; it was by luck alone that none of them bumped into him. He turned right, then two more times before his made it in front of a lift, it opened with a flick of his wand and he went in, pressing five. It smoothly slid down.

Harry was suddenly hit by a sinking feeling as the doors started to part, and a grey hall that had a number of large windows and doors became visible; three people, two women and a man stood at the far end, each of them leveling a gun towards the now fully open lift.

"He's invisible, shoot!" Harry quickly threw himself to the side, the loud sounds of gunfire reverberating in the halls; holes appearing at the rear of the lift. His eyes were closed, his hands covering his ears and his heart was thudding hard against his chest. How had they known? he thought with some amount of panic but quickly got his mind in order, that wasn't important. He still a mission to complete, and it meant disposing—though not lethally of course—of the three agents that were shooting at him.

For a moment the gun fire eased, Harry was quickly on his feet and his wand drawing a vertical line; a Stunner, red in colour, erupted with loud whoosh, moving fast towards the woman in the middle. She was pushed to the side by her partner; Harry turned, disappearing and appearing behind them just as they open fire on the lift again. A man though, with a goatee whipped around as Harry appeared, "_Protego!"_ The shield quickly materialised and the man begun shooting, sparks flying each time that his bullets hit.

"He's a teleporter," said the goateed man his eyes not straying from Harry even though he was sure the man couldn't see him; more shots joined the first barrage and Harry felt his hand vibrate unpleasantly, the shield requiring more focus from breaking and the hold on his transfigurations wavering. Harry quickly looked around, catching sight of a man that was watching the battle with glee, an ally, Harry thought and turned on the spot.

"Do you think you can take them?" Harry asked and the man started, bald and much larger than Harry, for a moment the man looked into thin air, confused, then nodded. "Hold on," and he grabbed the man's arm, turned on the spot and had a half-dome shield conjured before the agents could open fire.

The man smirked as sparks flew around him, there now seven Company agents shooting at them and the strain started cracking the shield, and his connection to his transfigurations gone. He looked at the man beside him who was staring at sedately at the scene, he smirked, then his eyes glowed red; instantly and with surprising force, Harry felt his anger rise higher than ever before. He tried to push it down, but it threatened to overcome him with each second; snarls echoed around him and he grit his teeth trying to regain focus. The man beside him watched the mesmerising scene with a smug smile plastered on his face; the Company agents were fighting each other.

"How?" Harry found himself asking as he gaped.

"Anger," the man said simply and Harry instantly knew what he meant, the directionless anger that was threatening to overcome him even now. Harry gave a nod, forgetting that he was invisible for the moment, he shot out several Stunning Charms and incapacitated all the agents.

"Do you mind turning it off now?" The man's eyes stopped glowing and the anger evaporated as though it had never been there. Harry let out a breath of relief. "Follow me," he said and made his wand grow a bright green that would be easy to follow; at his words screams started erupting from the prisoners, all of them screaming to be released. Harry ignored them, he was here for Julien, the red-eyed man had helped him, that was the only reason he let him out, though he'd have to keep a close eye on him.

"You have quite the skill-set," said the man, his voice deep and tone calm. "I would think the company would have recruited you." Harry just snorted and turned left, if only the guy knew.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Ricardo Silva," said the man, "and you are?"

"Can't say, technically I can't be here." Harry stopped short as a woman, lean an dark-skinned appeared around a corner as if from thin air. Ricardo growled, his eyes beginning to glow bright but he was suddenly knocked off his feet as the woman was next to him. She looked at the green light, and made a grab too fast for Harry to dodge, her hand clasped his wand and she grinned.

"Got you." Harry turned on the spot, Apparating as far away as he could manage—Odessa, Texas—and released a Revulsion Charm, the woman's grip faltered and she looked around, her face between nausea and confusion. Harry turned and appeared just as Ricardo as coming too, he lit the green light.

"We've got to keep moving, I don't know when she'll—" Harry was driven off his feet as the woman slammed into him, knocking him against the wall; he groaned as punch collided with his jaw, then his eye, then his nose all in under a second. Ricardo jumped to his feet, grabbed the woman and had his arms around her, he moved back, growling again and slammed the woman face-first into a wall, she screamed and didn't move.

"You can teleport," said Ricardo, "take us out of here." Harry wasn't listening, his nose was broken and blood was starting to falling on the floor; he flicked his wand and shot a Vanishing spell at the blood, it could be tested, and Harry couldn't afford that.

"Looking for someone," he said to Ricardo and he shot a Stunner on the woman just to be on the safe side. "Come," he said and this time called forth Prongs, his light had made him made his Disillusionment Charm moot. "Lead us to Julien," he told Prongs who eagerly nodded and took off in a silent trot. Harry chased after, aware of Ricardo following.

Prongs turned left, then right, weaving through the halls until he came to a large locked door, though he did not stop, nor did Harry. The door opened with a loud pop, Harry and Ricardo not stopping but following the happiness made corporeal; another series of doors came up and Harry flicked his wand just as another squadron appeared.

"_Protego Maxima!"_ The shield illuminated the hall with bright blue light, forming in a semi-dome shaped that made gouges appear on the walls it touched; sparks flew as the agents opened fire, but that fire quickly turned among themselves as Harry felt his anger rise again. "NO," he whispered before attempting something he had never tried before. "_EXPELLIARMUS!" _The charm erupted with the force of a quickly filled the room; all the guns, keys, watches all another manner of things were viciously pulled off the agents and flew towards Harry faster than he knew they could then slammed against his shield. He gave a vicious sweep of his wand and thick ropes appeared, capturing the still fighting agents; Harry let out a raggard breath, falling to his knees. All his energy gone and the only thing that his body wanted to do was sleep; the lights in the hall had all turned off.

"Quite the skill-set indeed," he heard Ricardo softly say in the darkness.

"_Lumos._" Nothing happened. "_Lumos._" The tip of his wand let out a dim white light that gave them the barest visibility. "We've-" he took a breath, "we've got to keep moving," he said though his muscles refused to let him stand. Harry had never felt more tired, not to mention his jaw and nose which were aching. Harry felt arms grab his shoulders and lift him.

"Let us find this friend of yours and leave this place," said Ricardo, Harry gave a jerky nod and summoned Prongs again. "To Julien." Prongs gave Ricardo a hard look, then looked at Harry who gave another tired nod. He trotted off, this time at a slow walk; the pair followed. It wasn't long at all before they were standing in front of doors a few inches short of the Vault's thickness, a keypad with a card-slide on the wall beside the door.

Harry moved his wand in a backward 's' and muttered, "_Alo—homora" _and nothing happened of course. Harry took a breath, held it, let it out and then repeated. "_Alohomora."_ The door opened with a loud hiss that rang through the hall. Prongs walked in and then disappeared; with Ricardo's help, Harry was led in a rested against the wall. "I just—need to catch my—breath."

"What is this place?" asked Ricardo, there wasn't much to see; the darkness, unending, without even the barest of light. Harry tried a nonverbal Lighting Charm, again that didn't work, Harry felt sapped, and he felt pathetic that he couldn't even manage a First year spell. He was lucky his squad wasn't here to see this, but then again, he'd let a lot go in that Disarming Charm. He would never do that again, even he felt the technique would be useful as hell.

"Julien Dumont's cell," Harry said when he felt a little of his strength return. "_Lumos." _The light flickered but held, lighting the room in a faded light. Harry heard Ricardo; there were five stretchers laying across the room, all identical and laying in the fetal position. Thin tube, almost like umbilical cords, stretched out from the men, connecting them to a gaunt looking man who was hung unconscious. Julien Dumont, as Harry had seen him in Victoria's memories, nothing had changed except he looked thinner than in the memory. Harry felt repulsed at the sight, and more especially the people who had done this to Julien.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, staggering a light but righting himself. He looked at the clones that lay on the stretcher with confusion, he didn't know how to deal with them; they were clones yes but was their life any less meaningful? This wasn't the time to get philosophical, he had to get Dumont out of here, maybe with him gone, the Company's forces would decrease if even by a little.

"'Can you get him off that thing?" Harry said to Ricardo who nodded and quickly got to work, gently trying detaching the man from the countless machines that were attached to him.

"What about the cords?" asked Ricardo, "If we cut them it may kill the others." Harry frowned, he hadn't been expecting this. He didn't know what he had expected but it certainly wasn't this. He paced, though slower than he often did, aware that at any minute more agents might storm the room.

"If I cut them, will he feel pain?" Harry asked, he got an uncertain shrug. It was a neccesary evil if it would, Dumont was suffering in the creation of his clones. _"Diffindo,"_ he said softly and the cords severed with a wet sound; screams erupted, the clones starting to writhe in pain. Harry clenched his teeth, ignoring the scream as he walk to Ricardo and Dumont, holding them tightly and Disapparated.

* * *

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Harry asked Ricardo, whom, it seamed, was learned in the basics of medicine.

Ricardo nodded. "He's weak," he said after taking a sip of coffee, relishing the liquid he said he hadn't had in months, "but he will make it given a lot of rest and some real food." He looked at Harry with intrigue. "You never did tell me your name," he said.

"Sorry, rude of me." Harry extended a hand. "Harry Potter."

"A pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter," he said as he shook Harry's hand, "and I thank you for releasing me from my sentence."

"Not a problem," said Harry, the comment reminding him that Ricardo might have been the dangerous supermuggles the Company arrested. "Speaking off, what were you arrested for?" Harry asked bluntly, much of his magic had recovered and he was confident were it to come to a fight between them, he could take Ricardo.

The man smirked and he donned an almost feral look. "I killed many of their agents," said Ricardo and Harry's hand tightened around his wand. Ricardo disregarded this, looking as if he enjoyed the memory. "They were trying to take me in," he continued, "and they were none to kind about it. One shot at me, I decided to take off the kiddie gloves." He suddenly frowned. "But the man who can stop abilities came to the rescue."

"The Haitian?" Harry said, remembering what Peter had called the pills he was being given. He was lucky he hadn't yet met the man, the thought that he might have his ability gone, even temporarily, chilled him.

Ricardo shrugged and drunk his coffee as if it were water. "I don't know his name, but he is formidable. What about you, Harry Potter, what would compel you to walk into the place where the Company is most powerful, alone?"

"A saving people thing," Harry said softly with a melancholic chuckle, he looked up to see Ricardo confused. "My allies are currently indisposed," said Harry, "and I thought the danger was worth it. The man in that room was unknowingly creating an army for the Company, and if I want to take them down, decreasing their numbers seemed the smartest thing to do."

"Taking down the Company?" Harry gave a nod. "A noble task, but do you think it can be done? The woman in the cell beside me had the ability to emit a gas from her body that could kill anyone, and yet she was easily caught by the Company, she too says she was trying to take in down for the killing of her mother. Why would you succeed, Harry Potter?"

Again someone telling him trying to take down the Company was a useless endeavour, Harry might have felt a little disheartened had he not been used to such attitudes from a young age. No matter what Adam or Ricardo said, he wasn't going to lose focus on what he wanted; he'd had lived for thirty years without aging a day, if that went on forever, Harry had all the time in the world to make plans, make mistakes, re-plan and take the Company down. He wasn't going to give up, and he wasn't going to let ambition get the better of him when he ran things.

"I don't give up," Harry finally answer, "and I have the useful knack for making friends."

"I fear that will not be enough," said Ricardo, "but do as you must." The man stood. "I leave you to your endeavour, then, Harry Potter." Then he started walking off towards the door.

"Mr. Silva," Harry said his voice turning hard, the man at the door paused. "I am not one that takes crime very lightly, it is for this reason that I got into Law Enforcement. Let me not hear about people getting irrationally angry and killing each other, because if that happens I will know its you and I will find you and put you back in your cell."

The man smirked, then inclined his head. "I consider myself threatened, Mr Potter," he said drily and walked out, beyond the Muggle-Repelling Charm that warded off even supermuggles, though Harry didn't know how telepaths would deal with it. But that was not yet of consequence, Maury—he'd heard the name before, he just couldn't remember where—no longer worked for the Company as far as Victoria remember, Charles and Arthur were dead, so that left him no trouble in the telepath department; well, that was if there weren't anymore telepaths running around in the world.

Harry sighed, letting out a soothing breath; everything was just so damn complicated, and he still had the virus to deal with. A task for tomorrow, he mentally told himself, he was too out of it to be dealing with the subtle art—though it was none too subtle with him—of Legillimency; he jaw still ached, his nose still throbbed though it had stopped bleeding and his eyes was a little swollen, and he couldn't in his right mind leave Julien alone, that just call for trouble.


	12. Chapter 12

Leverage

Harry took a breath, as he had done for the last fifteen minutes. The dark-haired man stood in front of the door leading to the only bedroom his—and there he was being possessive again—apartment, and the impromptu recovery room of Julien Dumont. Harry wasn't sure whether or not the man was awake, but he was feeling apprehensive; he knew full well how hard it was to be betrayed, even if by an employer, and he didn't like being the one about to break it to Dumont. Harry took another breath, before pushing himself forward and opening the room's door with his free-hand—the other carried a tray with a bowl filled to the brim with chicken soup.

The room was dark, all the lights turned off and the heavy curtains blocking out the sun, and the only sound the slow breathing that came from the man sleeping peacefully on the small bed. Harry walked as quietly as he could—which he thought was kind of ridiculous given he was going to wake the man up—and placed the tray on the side table before going to open the curtains; sunlight streamed in, illuminating the dark red of the thick blanket covering Dumont, the worn and chipped browns of the headboard and lamp posts. Harry didn't venture any closer as he took out his wand, Julien had been sleeping for nineteen years and Harry didn't know his mental state, for all he knew the man could attack him if his was the first face Dumont saw.

"_Innervate,"_ Harry said, his wand pointed at the sleeping Dumont; a deep red light shot out and hit Dumont square in the chest. The man woke with a start, his blanket flying off him as he instantly sat up, breathing hard; for a moment he looked around, not seeming to see anything, and the he fell back and stared up into the ceiling. Harry gave him a moment to acclimate, for his mind to come to terms with being awake and his body get used to the senses it hadn't used in a long time. After a few minutes had passed, Dumont tried to move. "I wouldn't move too much," Harry said, startling the man and earning a brown-eyed gaze dripping with distrust. "You're weak, you might injure yourself..." Harry said with a shrug, he really didn't have the slightest of ideas when it came to healing, but he did remember Madam Pomfrey always recommending sleep, it had to be important.

"Wh–who are you?" asked Julien with a raspy voice that had a Dutch accent, "and where am I?"

"Harry Potter," was the answer from the man who hadn't moved from beside the window, Harry could see Dumont hold a wince as he looked at him. "You're in New York, in some run-down apartment building."

"Why am I here?" Harry was a little surprised at how calmly Dumont was taking this all, but, he reminded himself, he hadn't told the blond that nineteen years had passed or about the army he had supplied.

"I rescued you," Harry said, to which Dumont just raised a brow. "You were being kept by the Company for the last nineteen years in sort of a medical cell, there they were, without your consent, pumping as many clones as they could get." and there it was, Dumont's face, which had been nothing but expressionless, had changed to shock, disbelief, anger, then horrified disbelief.

"That's not true," he said with not an ounce of confidence. "They wouldn't do that." Harry took out a folded newspaper from his pocket and tossed it at Dumont, the man caught easier than Harry would have in his position.

"That has today's date."

Shock, it was the only emotion that played out on the blond man who looked a little healthier than he had yesterday, maybe creating clones took a lot out of him, Harry guessed; but Dumont was still a far cry from peak physical condition.

"How? Why?" the man asked softly and Harry didn't answer, couldn't answer. The Company had started out with nothing but the best of intentions, he still didn't understand why their ambition would make them disregard the lives of others so easily. Harry shifted, it felt like he was interrupting a private moment, but getting out would call too much attention to himself. He continued to stand, occupying his time by counting the many stains that had somehow found their way onto the ceiling.

The minutes stretched on longer, long enough Harry was starting to feel his legs cramp up. He decided to speak. "You should eat," he said, and again startled Julien who had forgotten Harry was still in the room. Julien turned to look at him, then at the bowl still hot with soup. "I wasn't sure if your stomach could manage solids, so I thought soup would be the safe option."

Harry walked into the livingroom and slid onto the couch; there wasn't much planned for the day, with Julien here, and most likely still weak, he didn't have time to be Apparating off to Maine. He needed to stay here, help the man with anything he wanted, especially with the agents that would be looking for him; Harry wondered what would happen to the Julien clones that were currently on employ, a shiver made its way up his spine, most likely the mortal option. But this was a victory, even if it was a small victory. Harry rubbed his jaw in memory of the very fast woman who had punched him, the Company had powerful employees, both muggle and supermuggle alike, the same could not be said for Harry, but he would get there. Now though, he needed to start thinking about getting money; the day he, Adam and Peter would escape was steadily approaching, and would be forced to move. Then there was the botched Apparition that would soon follow. Harry remembered his thinking of Godric's Hollow, which was half-way around the world. He shouldn't have been able to do that, but he had—and it confused him why he was only now thinking about the impossible task he'd managed.

Bob Bishop, the name filtered through Harry's jumbled memories of the founder, the man could turn anything he could touch into gold, a well-placed Confundus Charm and Harry would be rich in a matter of moments. Harry smirked, then the smirk quickly disappeared, he was sure with his recent rescue, security would be upped, and getting to Bob would be that much harder, especially since he would have to summon Prongs to find him. The real problem were the many agents, the speedster, the man who could find him even though he was disillusioned and, most dangerous of all, the man who could take away abilities. Harry wondered if his powers could be taken away, after all they didn't stem from the same source—at least he guessed—but he wasn't looking forward to meeting the man.

There was also Kaito Nakamura, if Harry remembered correctly Kaito was the CEO of a major company in Japan. Harry would of course need to research the floor plans of the company, its lay-out and where Kaito's office would most likely be and pay the man a visit; security would be a little more lax there, at least Harry hoped, but he would still have to take precautions in case this company too was a front for the Company. Kaito seemed the most viable option.

The first step, were the guns. Harry had been lucky he had been able to conjure shields before the agents pulled their triggers, but luck wasn't something Harry liked depending on; he would need to bewitch his clothes to ward of bullets, not an easy task but one which would prove useful not only now. He'd have to put off visiting Victoria for a few more days, but he had a greater time limit with the virus than with getting a temporary place, and the house needed furniture.

The second, and Harry wasn't certain how this would work on his schedule, he would need to start training in martial arts; losing his wand was a casualty he would face many times, it was best if he was prepared, there was also the possibility of his wand breaking but he didn't want to give much thought to that, but that rose the question: Did the Elder Wand even break?

Yes, it was supposedly crafted by Death himself—if Death was a him in the first place; yes, it could repair even another wand; and yes, objects bewitched with it would transcend even the caster's death. But it was just a quasi-sentiet stick at the end of the day, a stick that, theoretically, would break while trying to poke someone's eye out. Harry shook his head, he was curious, but he wasn't going to test it.

* * *

It wasn't because Harry didn't trust Julien, far from it. The man seemed friendly enough most of the time, others he would seem like a different person, but that was beside the point; two days into their stay, Julien had wanted to start running and Harry had decided to join him out of the need to protect Julien. Harry had no idea how long it took Julien to clone himself, and it was imperative that Julien stay out of the Company's clutches.

Their feet pounded in synchronicity, Harry's heart pounding hard against his chest and blood rushing rapidly through his ears; his breathing was hard and laboured and his lungs searing hot but he continued on. Julien looked weaker than him, so by Harry's logic he was supposed to have been doing better. He wasn't, not by much. Julien wasn't showing the smallest sign of wear.

"You know," Harry said, his voice interrupted by a sharp intake of breath, "you should be pacing yourself, taking it slower." with the corner of his eye Harry saw Julien smirk, it wasn't a competion, but he still felt he should have been winning.

"If you want to take a break, Harry, then go ahead," said Julien. Harry quickly shook his head, trying to keep his breathing even, but failing; he wiped off the sweat drenching his forehead, internally wishing he'd had the fore-thought of bringing a bottle of water.

"No, just two more blocks and we're back at the apartment, a break now would be redundant." Julien nodded and they continued their run in silence.

* * *

Harry gaped as he watched the spectacle that played out in front of him; the sofa, table and TV were all pushed in a rushed manner to the side, two Juliens standing with fists raised and focused looks narrowed at each other. Both were breathing hard, as though they had been fighting for the hour Harry had momentarily stepped out.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked though it was quite clearly the most obvious thing in the world. He was confused, after he'd found out about everything, when the full weight of it all had hit him, Harry had spent a full three weeks getting drunk and doing nothing; and here Julien was, already gaining back his former shape in three days.

"Harry!" said the Julien Harry was sure was a clone; he was leaner than the regular Julien, his skin healthier and tanned, his hair a bright blond. "You're back!" he said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I am." Harry tossed the backpack he was carrying on the kitchen table, it was filled with a range of different sized uniforms and bullet-proof jackets he'd nicked from police stations in New York and Texas. "Still doesn't explain what you're doing," he said still staring at the pair and noticing the bruise that was starting to appear under Julien's eye.

"We're sparing," said Julien softly, a challenging glint in his eyes. "Do you have a problem with that, Harry?" He still spoke softly, but the clear challenge was still there. This was another part of Julien Harry had seen a few times, Harry couldn't explain it, but the man seemed a little bi-polar, though it was not his emotion—those were constantly hidden—but his personality; sometimes he would be like his clone, enthusiastic about everything, having a child-like innocence, and others it would be as though he was aching for a fight. Harry accounted it to an addled mind, something he wouldn't touch even if he had the longest pole in the world; that would be an awkward conversation.

"No," Harry said, choosing to let it go. He was not Julien's father, or guardian for that matter, he was keeping the man safe just until the Company had better things to do (Finding Peter seemed a big enough task.) "None at all, just be careful, you're still recovering."

Julien snorted and turned towards his clone, bringing up his fists. "Again." The Clone smirked, eyes shining with excitement; before he quickly shot out a punch, and the fighting began.

* * *

"I'm cooking tonight." This was a clone, Harry was sure of it. "I haven't had time to cook since Culinary school," said the clone with an accent that was undoubtably American. Harry watched, transfixed as Julien bustled around the kitchen looking through the barely filled cupboards. "We need to go shopping," he said and briskly walked into the bedroom and came out wearing a heavy coat. "Let's go, Harry, Root is being all nostalgic about who-knows-what and I don't feel like doing the same." He was already at the door as he finished. Harry quickly cast a look back at the bedroom, Julien was sitting looking out the window. He quickly got to his feet and followed the clone that had walked out, casting a Warming Charm as he felt the chilly outside air.

"So you went to Culinary school?" Harry asked when he'd finally caught up with Julien, he made sure to scan around every so often so they wouldn't be caught off-guard by regal looking people.

Julien nodded, then frowned, but that quickly disappeared. "I don't know exactly when," he said, "and I don't think about it too much, but I went to Culinary School. I can cook as well as the best off them." The last comment was said in such a proud manner that if the man were a dog, his chest would be puffed out.

"And, has Julien—Root you called him—has he been to Culinary school?" Harry asked uncertainly, he didn't understand any of this cloning thing, weren't the clones supposed to be the exact image of the Original(?) and if was one thing Harry was sure about, Julien hadn't shown any affinity towards cooking.

The clone snorted, his nose scrunched in disgust. "He wishes, can't cook to save his life. I tried to teach him once," he visibly shook, "I remember being sick until I was dismissed. I warn you, Harry, no matter what possesses Root, don't eat his cooking." Harry nodded, staring at the clone that was so different from Dumont.

"So what do I call you?" Harry asked, they'd just passed three small shops that sold groceries, Harry didn't take from the small stores anymore. It was only the chain places he took stock from, he didn't want to put the small places out of business for taking food for himself, and sometimes Victoria, though the latter wasn't a regular occurence, he'd only had to do it once so far; with the woman locked inside her own yard, it made getting groceries sorta hard, it was lucky she was used to being a hermit. "And the other clones?" Harry specified.

The clone shrugged. "Whatever you want really. Root, just calls us with our most noticeable traits."

"So he'd call you Chef?"

Chef nodded, and Harry shrugged, if it worked, who was he to say otherwise. "How may others are there?"

"I don't know, but the one's I've come across are, Samurai, Sniper, Seductress—she's tried to change her gender three times but Root doesn't allow her, says it would complicate dismissing her—Professor, Pervert—you don't want to meet him—Philanthropist—he's always trying to give away money even if we don't have it, sucks really. There are more, I've been told, but I haven't met them yet."

"How does he manage you all?" Harry asked, but his question wasn't answered as Chef's mind was quickly called by the fresh produce the store had; the conversation soon turned to nothing but food as the made their way back to the apartment, Chef describing with detail the meal he was about to prepare.

Suffice to say, it was the best meal Harry had had on this universe.

* * *

"So what's your power?" Julien asked on what was now their daily run, he spared Harry a quick side-glance before focusing on the road, his eyes scanning the busy streets; Harry's eyes were doing the same.

Harry didn't honestly see a reason to lie about his power, the only reason he'd lied to Peter in the first place had been because Harry hadn't been sure how the wizarding community dealt with supermuggles; with there being no wizarding world, that wasn't a problem—and Harry would need Julien's trust if he wanted to ask them man to join his 'endevour' as Ricardo had called it—so Harry said, "I'm a wizard" and it felt like a weight was stripped off his shoulders as he said it.

"You're serious?" he asked to which Harry nodded, Julien just shook his head. "I've heard many things, seen many abilities, but magic." again he shook his head. "That one's new, and one I find hard to believe."

"I have charms around the apartment that make sure no-one thinks to rent it," said Harry. "Haven't you noticed how I always escort you in, if I didn't you most likely wouldn't be able to walk into the apartment."

"Telepathy," Julien simply said. "If you are a talented enough telepath, it would be easy to achieve such a task."

"True, true, but I'm not—never mind, I'll show you when we get back. I've been working on something," Harry said excitedly, he'd completed bewitching one of the bigger combat suits, though he hadn't tested it yet and it would totally blow Julien's mind.

"I'll admit I'm curious," said Julien before he started running at a faster pace, Harry following suit. They arrived panting, Harry's lungs on fire as he threw himself on the couch, deciding not to move for a long while, but Julien wasn't having it. "You had something to show me, Harry."

Harry nodded weakly, the action causing every muscle in his body to ache. "In a minute," he said, "or an hour. I really don't want to move right now."

"Unfit," he man muttered loud enough for Harry to hear. "You'd swear you're the one that's been sleeping for the past nineteen years." He'd started off with mirth, but that steadily disappeared as he finished his sentence, started thinking about where his life had gone.

"Well, not nineteen," said Harry, "but thirty isn't a short time either."

Julien looked surprised. "They had you sleeping as well?" Harry nodded, though quickly regretting it as tendrils of hurt spread throughout his entire body. "Why?"

Harry shrugged before he could help himself and winced. "I'm still trying to figure that out," he said, "but I don't think I did anything." and the urge to just pop over to Victoria hit Harry like a steam-engine. If he at least knew why maybe he'd feel better, he snorted, that wasn't likely, but maybe if he knew why he'd have a deeper understanding of the Company. What drove them.

Harry focused back on reality, Julien was looking at him with sympathetic eyes. Harry didn't like that, but he didn't comment, he was sure he must have looked at Julien the same way when he had just woken up. "It's why I'm thinking of taking them down," Harry said and he got up, looking at Julien with a sense of determination, trying to exude the confidence of a leader. "I have a friend who had been working for the Company when it was started thirty years ago—he was a guard in one of their prisons. He says the Company had lost its way, it no longer seeks to protect supermuggl—I mean people with abilities, but they also want to start the world over."

"Start it over? What does that mean?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know their greater plans, but one of them includes releasing a virus with the potential to wipe out all the life on earth."

"How does that make any sense?" Julien said in a raised voice, his accent thicker. "How does wiping out humanity make life better?" Julien took a few breaths, rubbing his furrowed brow. "It's not that I don't believe you, Harry, but I just don't get it." He paced to the kitchen and sat eagerly on one of the chairs, it groaned under him. "Before I worked for the Company, I used to be a petty thief," he said with remorse, "it was easy with my ability and the police couldn't touch me because I always had an alibi. But the Company found me, they said I could change my life for the better if I chose to work on the side of good—" His voice wavered. "And all this time supposed to believe they've been trying to end everything? Even if they arrested me, Harry, even if they used me, I can't believe the people who turned me off a dark path are trying to end the world."

"And yet its true," said Harry softly. "I've seen the virus, and Peter—a time-traveler—has seen the effects of the virus. It's bad, very bad, and I'm trying to also stop that." Julien didn't say anything, just stared at Harry, his eyes broken.

"You want my help?" Julien asked, though it sounded more like a statement. Harry didn't answer. "Is that why you rescued me? Because I was the easy way to getting your own army?" Julien asked quietly and Harry reached for his wand before he knew what he was doing. Juliens fury was in his calm, he didn't want to take the chance of being caught off-guard.

"No," he said calmly. "Not at all, I saved you because I didn't like your fate."

Julien got off his seat and walked to the door. "I need some air," he said opening the door viciously. "I'll be back whenever." Harry wanted to stop him, after the hard work and personal risk he'd put into saving the blond he deserved as such, but Dumont was his own army, trying to take him on could prove disastrous. He fell back as the door closed with a bang, it was time to test if he'd bewitched the combat-suit correctly anyway. He quickly showered, Apparated to a pawn shop in the area and Confunded the owner into giving him a gun and Port keyed to his house in England.

* * *

The combat-suit was black and padded, the type Harry had seen a few times from the police who tried to control large crowds, and it was floating half a metre away from Harry. Harry himself was carrying a small, black pistol, he'd tried to charm it to fire endless bullets, but that hadn't worked out too well—the gun instead chose to making chortling sounds every time Harry missed his target, and that was a lot. It was annoying, and Harry was harbouring thoughts of trying to find another, but he'd already gotten enough bullets to last a few life-times.

Harry took a breath, he'd found he missed closer when he was calm, then squeezed the trigger; a loud bang echoed throughout the clearing and at the far distance sparks flew as the shield instantly materialised and deflected the bullet. Harry laughed, elated at his success, both in shooting and the charm, with the rushed job that the suit was, he'd thought it would obviously failed. He tried again, taking a breath and firing; he missed and there came a chortle from the gun, Harry glared at the little object, thoughts of firing a Reductor Curse at it.

This was going nowhere. He needed someone that could accurately fire a gun so he could see how many bullets his charm could withstand before he it disappeared, he hoped Julien had calmed down.

He summoned a stray rock and charmed into a Port key.

* * *

"I can't get in," Julien said as Harry rounded the corner that led to the apartment—he didn't trust elevators, too confined for his liking. The man had been standing outside, waiting for Harry. "All I see is a wall where the room was, and every time I try to feel for the doorknob my brain tells me I'm being stupid, there's obviously nothing but wall and I should just wait for you." Friendly Julien was back and Harry would have thought the man was a clone were it not for his still thin physique.

"Uhm...yeah, those would be the charms at work," he said then he stopped at the door, this was his opportunity, he could still get his testing done while Julien was in a good mood. "Hey, Julien, how would you like to visit England?"

"I think I like this place better," said Julien as he walked around the mostly fixed house, "a bit bare, but it's nice, roomy. Why don't you just live here? It's farther than the apartment, I mean there we were right under their noses, they could have caught us at any moment."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know how you'd take to the whole magic thing."

"Teleportation is not proof of magic—" Harry took out his wand, waved it, and a long couch which looked a bit uncomfortable appeared from thin air. Julien paused, staring, them he edged closer and touched it. "This could all be a realistic illusion, I still haven't ruled out that you might be a telepath."

Harry groaned. "I think you're being contrary for the sake of being contrary, but that's not the point, I don't have money to furnish the place, once I do that I'll be living here. Me along with any people that have mutual goals." Julien didn't comment at that, so Harry continued, "I brought you here because I want you to shoot at this," he pulled out the suit and floated it in front of them. "I bewitched this to conjure a Shielding Charm whenever it's being shot at, I want you to shoot as many rounds into it as possible so I can test its limits."

"I can do that," said Julien and they started at task; Julien would shoot, not even one of his bullets missing—this had prompted the gun to comment at its rejoice at getting a worthy wielder (Julien had gaped, but still stood firm that this all could be an illusion.) Harry on the other hand was working on charming another suit to pass the thirty bullet limit. They did this all of two days, which they stayed at the London house, Harry transfigured some sleeping bags and Port keyed back to New York to clean out food stock and remove the enchantments around the house on the house. It was probably a good thing too because Harry had no idea when Adam's friend—whose name was just close enough that Harry remembered it started with an 'M' but not much else—had rented the apartment.

"So why are you doing this exactly?" asked Julien as Harry slid into his combat-suit, this was just covering his bases if by some unfortunate luck—and with Harry it was pretty much a given he would have unfortunate luck—there were armed guards waiting for.

"We need money," then he thought about his answer, he was being inclusive of Julien when the man hadn't shown want to join his take-down of the Company. He corrected himself, "Well I need money, and Kaito Nakamura is filthy rich, I'm thinking he'll transfer some of that to my account."

"But how will you do that? I don't think someone who put you away in prison would just give you money, there's no logic in that."

Harry smirked. "I have my ways," he said as he pulled on a balaclava; Julie had thought it was overkill, and Harry had to agree, but given that Magical Exhaustion had stripped off his Disillusionment Charm, he waned to be on the safe side.

"Oh wait, let me guess. Magic," and his tone was a condescending as any could be, Harry looked at the man deadpan and answered yes. Julien shook his head and looked at Harry with some amount of awe. "How you can say magic is real with a straight face remains one of the greater mysteries of all this."

Harry shrugged. "Magic's real, Julien, the sooner you except that, the easier your life will be." Harry summoned a used bowl from the kitchen and tapped it three times when it had arrived. It rattled, glowing blue for a few seconds before the colour faded back to its original hue. "I don't know how long it will take to transfer the amount of money I'm gong for, so it might be a few days before I come back," said Harry. "If you do go out into London, remember there are most likely agents that know what you look like—"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, be safe."

Harry nodded. "And start looking for furniture, I'm horrible when it comes of decorating."

"On it," the man said and a second Dumont stepped out of the man's back; Harry gaped, that certainly wasnt' how he'd imagined Julien cloned himself. Where was the cord that had connected him to the others? Or the whole fetal position process? But before he could ask he felt a strong pull at his navel and his world became a swirl of colour.

* * *

Yamagato Industries was a bustling, yet sedate place; it had a certain calm to it Harry hadn't noticed in the cubicles he passed as he went to his office, and one he'd usually attribute to laziness, but he guessed tha couldn't be true with all the different people he'd seen lugging around paperwork. The problem with the bustling, though, was how hard it made it to walk around; when disillusioned, a person was practically invisible, nothing could be seen from the except with a Detection Charm, and whatever form of technology the goateed muggle was using, so it meant people bumped into him. A lot, and there was not much he could do about it without revealing the presence of a supermuggle—he didn't know how Kaito usually dealt with those.

He took the lift up, as much as he didn't like lifts, he had no way of knowing what lay on the last floor; he put a Muggle-Repelling Charm on the lift's door so as to not have any interruptions. The plan was simple, and really a one-part(er)-stun Kaito, then Confund him into transferring money into the account Julien had set-up, then mysteriously forgotten about (until the man made his allegiance clear, Harry deemed it prudent to keep him at arm's length.)

The door opened to reveal a long hall, whose left was lined with window looking out into the greater beauty of Tokyo; the right rooms were see-through, having neatly offices and diligently working staff, the last was a large boardroom before Harry saw a lone receptionist typing on a computer with practised ease.

"_Confundo." _She shook her head, confusion lining her eyes. "You need to use to the bathroom," Harry said, the woman didn't look around or in shock of the bodiless voice, she just got up and walked away in an elegant pace. Harry flicked his wand, putting another Muggle-Repelling Charm so as to not attract attention when it opened. The door slid open and closed as soon as Harry was through.

"I have been expecting you," said Kaito, who was siting on the otherside of the room, behind an imaculate desk; the office was larger than the others, Kaito's desk stood at the far end infront of the windowed wall, there was what looked to be a small livingroom with three sofas, a small table and a TV hung on the wall. There was also a large cube Harry didn't take the time to inspect in detail, Kaito knew he was here, which should have been impossible. Kaito wasn't a telepath, which meant he wasn't supposed to have been able to give the door any of his attention. But Harry didn't speak incase the man was bluffing, which seemed most likely.

"I know you are there," Kaito said and to emphasise his point, Kaito looked up and directly at Harry for a few seconds then went back to his paperwork. "There really is no reason to hide, but I know you will not lose that pathetic guise you are wearing so it is irrelative. You should not have come here," he said, the last in a tone Harry would describe as threatening. Harry snorted, and instantly regretted it because he'd just given away where he was, if Kaito had been bluffing, but that could easily fixed; Harry started moving to his left, the carpet under his feet muffling the sound of his feet.

"If I calculated, and more often than not I do, you're here for my money." Kaito snorted. "Not one of your smarter options I will give you that, it would have been easier to steal from Robert Bishop. But you chose to com to me, therefore it is unfortunate to say, you will not leave here alive."

Again Harry snorted; idle threats, Harry thought but his wand-arm had raised itself and pointed towards Kaito. Two men appeared from thin air, both thin and wiry, though one had long hair tied in a pony-tail while he other's was cut short and both were wearing black suits and carrying sheathed swords, the same make Hiro had carried; a streak of red light shout out of Harry's wand and toward Kaito. The man didn't dodge, and even if he had wanted to there would have been no time to do so; the light passed through Kaito as though he were a mirage, rebounded off the window and slammed into his chair.

"Illusion," he said to Harry before ordering something in Japanese; the two men didn't hesitate, lightning quick they were unsheathing their swords and charging toward Harry. He brought up his wand, sparks flying as the transparent blue shield and the silver blade met; Harry was hit by momentary surprise as he noticed he could see his own hand, his black gloved hand that was holding up his wand.

"Everte Statum," Harry intoned and pure force blasted out of his wand and slammed into the two men, they stumbled back, but quickly got into similar forms. The man with the long hair charged and Harry shot out three Stunners in rapid fire; the man brough his sword forward, cutting the spell into a fury of sparks and jumped to the side to dodge the others, landing on a roll and quickly getting to his feet. Harry was honestly amazed, but he didn't show it, or give it too much thought; he was an Auror, the Head for the Department of Law Enforcement, he could most certainly take on two muggles carrying large knives.

The man had moved to either one of Harry's sides; Harry took a few steps back, getting both of them in his peripheral vision. There was a mirage-like ripple, but Harry ignored it as the man with the pony-tail charged; a Stunner was sent toward the man on instinct alone and Harry gaped as the spell passed right through the man and hit the large black box in the middle of the room. Harry caught motion at the corner of his eyes and turned on the spot, disappearing and appearing instantly in front of the door. He aimed his wand at the man whose eyes still hadn't left him, both were already charging at him; one rippled and disappeared while the other jumped, higher than he should have and brought down his sword, slamming it into a quickly conjured shield; the shield forced him back into the air but he spun midair and landed on his feet. Harry was amazed, but spun as he noted silver—everything slowed down, the sword arched downed while Harry let his momentum carry him into a full turned; he felt the familiar pull into the tube just as the sword slashed his face, pain instantly gripping him as it sliced into his skin; there was a loud crack as he disappeared.

Another crack and Harry appeared, dropping to his knee; his hand was raised in front of his face and pain flaring across it. Harry was seeing red, literally as blood flooded under his balaclava. He grit his teeth, he still a battle to fight and he wasn't holding back anymore. He heard the muffled of footsteps and looked up, his wand-arm doing the same; it was the short-haired man, but Harry didn't pay that any attention.

"Incendios Grata!" Fire erupted from Harry's wand with the sound of a gunshot; the short-haired man jumped, flipped and stuck onto the ceiling, the fire missing him. A scream reverberated through the room as the man with the pony-tail appeared, engulfed by fire; Harry flicked his wand and the fire turned to smoke-shaped-ropes that tightly bound the man. His wand pointed towards the short-haired man just as he was jumping down, "Pyrus Impactus," the spell hit the man sword and the silver metal was snapped by the force of the spell and it wielder slammed into the ceiling, want though he didn't fall, he stuck as one usually did when they fall onto the ground, unconscious.

Harry brought up his wand to his face, cleaning off the blood and muttering the only healing spell he knew; he hoped it didn't scar, although he highly respected Mad-Eye Moody, he didn't to look like him. The pain eased, but the spell wasn't powerful enough that it fully healed his wound; at least the pain was bearable. He walked over the bound man who was still had smoke coming from his body. Harry cringed at the sight of him; his pony-tail was gone, burnt by the fire, his skin pink and his clothes charred, his breathing was erratic, as though he was still in pain, and his eyes were closed. Harry stunned him and did the same to the man on the ceiling, just to be safe.

"Homenum Revelio." Three people in the room, twelve people in all in the entire floor; a blue wisp of light come out of Harry's wand and morphed into Prongs. "Search the entire building, see if Kaito's here." Prongs nodded and disappeared into the floor.

Harry looked around the room, sifting through paperwork he didn't understand; he didn't know what he was looking for, but he wanted something to do. Something else to think either than that he'd almost burnt another person alive, but he didn't give the many any sympathy, Harry was lucky he hadn't lost an eye because of the slasher. He didn't find anything and there only thing left was the large black box which was slightly crack from the stunbolt hit. He still didn't know what is was, but it was a box and maybe it opened, "Alohomora," there came a sizzle, and sparks, then the box's door was flung wide open.

It was a bit of let down, the box—and Harry was starting to think it a safe—held nothing but a piece of paper and a silver disk. He picked up he paper, scanned it, found that he didn't understand any of what was written on I, but shoved it in his pockets, it had to be important to be placed in a safe; he picked up the disk as well, he didn't know what he was going to do with this too.

Prongs appeared and shook his head, Kaito wasn't in the buillding. Harry sighed, there went this being simple; he rubbed his scar then cringing as the dull pain flared as it was awoken, he cursed, using words he hadn't felt the need to in years; pain was something he wished he could get used to, but back on track: How could he get past this?

Kaito wasn't here, and he couldn't just follow Prongs around Japan until he found Kaito, that would attract too much attention and he didn't need that until he was released; so he had to be smart, Kaito needed to be looking for him. He pulled out the ripped-in-half paper and stared at it, he didn't know its value but he was willing to bet Kaito would jump through many hoops to get it; he needed to test that.

"Stay here and tell Kaito to tell me the protection that surrounds the Vault," he said to Prongs. "If he tells me that, I'll be willing to negotiate how much this piece of paper is worth."

Harry summoned a paper-wieght from Kaito's desk and charmed it into a Port key.

* * *

Pyrus Impactus: A curse I liked while reading fiction by Jbern, never finished-it deviated too much from my taste-but I liked the spells Jbern used and I might use more of them-my lack of any knowledge in the Latin language means I won't be attempting any original spells.

Incendios Grata: A fire-based spell-I really love and equally fear fire so Harry is going to have an affinity with fire as seen with his beasts and what just happened-that is really powerful. Heck it was able to take down one of the Shambling Bone-Men-which are really powerful; that one I got from Joe6991's Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time-a must read.


	13. Chapter 13

A Far Greater Danger

Harry pulled of his balaclava, wincing as it pulled against the healing scar; things had not gone as planned. He'd almost been outmatched by two sword-wielding suppermuggles, come too close to death than he was comfortable with and still hadn't gotten what he wanted.

Harry opened the door to his house, briskly walking in and heading to the bathroom upstairs; Kaito had been waiting for him, had predicted his choice between either him or Bob Bishop, known his exact purpose and had seen through his Disillusionment Charm. All those things should not have happened all at once, supermuggles only had one ability each, even Peter who could copy the abilities of others had, in essence, one ability, therefore Kaito must have other supermuggles working for him, giving the man the image of omnipotence and omniscience.

The tap groaned as Harry opened it, vibrating vigorously before shooting out clean water—that had taken a few hours to charm. Harry splashed some water on his face, removing the blood that caked his pink scar; that had to be it, Kaito had more suppermuggles in his employ, muggles that could anticipate his moves. The prospect was worrying, Harry had never been too good at strategic thinking, he formed simple plans but in the end it was all up to chance if they worked, and it was more often than not his plans failed and he was forced to wing it. But that didn't mean he should stop, he thought, if there was someone out there that could predict his moves, it was imperative he came up with plans so outlandish they couldn't be predicted by a rational mind.

Note to self: Start trying to make overly complicated plans which are too hard to predict.

The prediction front was sorted...okay, it wasn't necessarily sorted but Harry was sure he could think of alternative plans if it came to it; what was next was the Disillusionment Charm, his illusion of invisibility had been stripped from him with such ease that were he not compelled to bring up his arm, he wouldn't have noticed. His disillusionments weren't up to scratch then, Harry didn't know how that information would pan out in the end; were there any chances of the same thing happening again? If there were, what could Harry do about it? He didn't have much choice on that front, the only 'invisibility' charms he knew were the Disillusionment Charm and Bedazzling Hex, there were others but Harry had become too accustomed to using his Cloak of invisibility for stealth; if there were indeed other supermuggles that could strip his disillusionment, then he had to find his cloak.

If it was on this universe that was.

Harry sighed, everything was too complicated for his liking, especially since he hadn't even succeeded in his first objective: Securing the virus so it wouldn't break if it fell. It scared him a little why his mind didn't grasp the overall danger humanity as a whole was in while the virus was still an asset the Company could use; he should not have allowed himself to be distracted, to be sidetracked from his original mission, but there many plays Harry couldn't avoid; he needed to take down the Company, both for revenge and for the greater good.

What to do about Kaito now?

Harry laid the balaclava and disk on the side of the sink, pulling out the half-torn paper filled with a numbers and symbols on its top quarter and honey-comb like diagrams on the rest of the page; to Harry it was the definition of incomprehensible nonsense and was rightly useless to him personally, but he could guess it meant something to Kaito, which would be why he kept it in a safe. The dilemma though, lay in not knowing its true worth; his test had been simple see how much Kaito was willing to give out to get it back—though it was stupid in retrospect, he's shown a hand, he'd made Kaito aware that he knew about the Vault and most likely what lay inside. His mistake would mean tighter security around the Vault and worse, it could mean Strain 138 being moved.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Harry muttered slapping himself against the forehead with each word; he thought of dismissing Prongs, but quickly shoved the thought aside, there were cameras in Kaito's office, they would have caught the fight and what he'd said. No, it made more sense to let Kaito hear the message, if the man guessed Harry knew the consequences of his actions then most likely he would also make the guess that Harry had an alternate plan for finding out about the Vault and getting into it if things came to that.

But he still wasn't comfortable with the possibility of the virus being moved, if it was it would mean too much was changing with him being here, and that couldn't be allowed to happen; he didn't exactly know the consequences of a change in the timeline, but he feared the worst could happen he would never existing or something equally terrible.

"I hate time-travel," he said rubbing his brow in annoyance, there were too many possibilities, "and all the troubles it brings with it." He grabbed the disk and went downstairs, he'd need to find some way of playing it and seeing what was inside. "Julien?" He shouted, searching through the livingroom—whose only distinction as such was because of future knowledge—the study, it was empty except for the bookcases lining the wall, the diningroom and the kitchen, those were the only rooms on the first floor; the second was comprised of four rooms, the main bedroom which it had its own bathroom, and three smaller room all sharing the bathroom; then there was the attic up top, which could be a room all on its own.

The entire house was empty, no sign of Julien. Harry shrugged, the man wasn't at home, which in itself wasn't anything to worry about, Julien wasn't the sort to stay cooped up in an empty house. Harry just had to wait for both Julien and Kaito's return.

It took three minutes, but Harry was able to conjure a sofa and make it plushy enough that when he threw himself on it, it engulfed him in a hug akin to one of Mrs. Weasley's specialities. He stayed well within consciousness that he didn't lose his connection to Prongs, but he could feel the regenerative properties sleep brought.

* * *

"Kaito says," Harry jerked awake at the sound of his own voice, looking around with some confusion before his sleep laden eyes caught the giant animal standing, looking at him. "You are far more resourceful than I thought," said Prongs, his voice still that of Harry's, "and I am afraid I have underestimated you, that will not be happening again. Return the formula or I will bring upon you the full might that my company affords me."

Harry snorted. "You don't know who I am," he said, "and I assure you who I am is too closely a guarded secret for you to find out." He was lying, Julien and Ricardo knew who he was, but Harry didn't think they could be used against him, both the men would try to keep a wide berth of the Company. It still didn't make him feel better though, he would need to make sure the two didn't divulge any information about him. "Tell me about the Vault or I search for someone else who might be interested in this formula."

Prongs disappeared.

You're digging yourself a deeper hole, Potter, Harry thought. He stood and took to pacing, rubbing his chin in thought; he was about to start another war when he didn't have the resources to finish him main objective, he was really starting a dangerous game. Kaito had already proved his formidability just a few hours ago, the man was not a force to be reckoned with, especially if his aim was to bring him down.

So what to do now?

Kaito knew Harry at least had some knowledge about the Vault, that was a given considering he had gone and told the guy just that, and he knew he was a teleporter therefore he would surely alert whomever was the current director of the potential danger the Vault was in. Harry would need to make sure no-one, with the exclusion of Peter, could get in there, and that was the easy part, Muggle Repelling Charm, Locking Charm and an Anti-Apparition Jinx just incase it worked on other teleporters.

Then there was his identity, that too was deceptively easy enough, a strong Tongue-Tying Curse could ensure they didn't speak about how he looked or his name—he guessed that if he tried hard enough he would be able to make the Curse a bit in the ways of the Fidelius Charm, in that the cursed couldn't speak about him to those who didn't already know about him, but doing this would pose a problem; though the founders didn't know his name, they sure knew what he looked like, this knowledge would make the curse moot. Okay, that idea was a no go, just a simple Tongue-Tying Curse would have to do; he'd need to find Ricardo in the very near future, which would mean he would also have to search for or create an unobtrusive means for finding someone.

Harry stopped as the blue wisp of light appeared and formed into the large stag, Prongs. "I admit your identity eludes me, but it is only a matter of time before I figure it out; that is, after all, my speciality. Game on as the saying goes, and I probably should tell you. It's being moved."

"Bollocks," Harry whispered. He shook his head, that couldn't be possible, it shouldn't be possible, he didn't want it to be possible. He'd made things infinitely worse. He needed to fix this, and quickly, but for the life of him he couldn't even move. What if this was a trap, and it would sure seem like it, they knew where he would be and they had ample enough opportunity to amass an army to guard the Vault inside and out, going there now would be dangerous; he'd be out numbered by a lot.

He pulled his wand, ready to enchant a Port key, but stopped, remembering his earlier thoughts; Kaito could predict him, so he would need to make outlandish plans, but quickly, every minute he wasted making plans which would probably not work, was a minute the virus went further away from where it should be.

Plan one: Julien. The man was an army, and in this instance, an army was what Harry needed; with an army, whatever measures they Company may have in place, whatever high a number of agents they had it would become irrelative. But there were two problems; the first, he didn't know where Julien was, and the second, the plan wasn't exactly outlandish enough, it would be easy to predict him using Julien's clones given they were such a convinience.

Plan two: Create a distraction. The Company had a multitude of prisoners, powerful prisoners, some of which had been wrongfully imprisoned; it was also where he'd been kept but he didn't want to give that much thought. He was sure if he released them all, the Company would be forced to deal with the escaped prisoners more than they would try and deal with him; but this too was risky. Not all the prisoners were wrongfully imprisoned, some were really a danger to society and if they escaped it would cause more harm than good; this too was predictable in some respect because he'd shown he would release inmates if he were in a corner.

Plan three: Peter. The man was the most powerful supermuggle he'd come across, if he rescued him and introduced him to Julien, then Harry could have an army comprised of infinite Peters. Nothing could stop him then, but there was Nathan—whom Peter would still want to save, not listening to anything else—and the fact Peter didn't exactly know who Harry was, not to mention there was there was the whole timeline thing. The plan didn't seem likely to work, but I was outlandish enough it would be hard to predict.

Plan four: Going into the Vault regardless of the consequences, destroying the virus regardless of the consequences and dealing with whatever chaos would ensue there after when it came; there was no greater outlandish plan in his opinion, Harry doubted anyone predicting it, but to be safe he was about to do more damage.

Four plans Harry wasn't sure would work, and all of them not finely tuned; Harry snorted, they were perfect given the time constraint. Harry summoned his blood-stained balaclava and a spoon from the kitchen, Scourgified the former and put it on, and tapped the latter three times when he caught it; the last plan couldn't work, it would bring to much a danger to the world, the universe even, to try. The first would take too much time, especially since he had to find Julien, that left the second and the third options. Harry felt a strong tug at his navel, the world becoming nothing but wind ad colour, then his feet landed on solid ground.

He didn't spare a minute, his wand grasped tightly in his hand, he started walked down the similar hallways of the Company; he barely remembered the way to the Vault on foot, but that wasn't why he was here, he needed to find the prison cells. How he would make sure they didn't get out of the building and wreck havoc to the greater humanity, he till wasn't sure yet, but he was still thinking on it. He wandered until he found a door, not as fortified as he had seen the cell doors, but still looked like it could withstand a lot of force. Harry flicked his wand and the door opened, revealing a low lit landing with the number 3 written against the opposite wall.

The cells would most likely be at the lowest levels, giving the criminals more room to cover if they escaped. He went down the stairs, making sure to keep an eye on the dark corners on each landing; in minutes he spotted the number 4 opposite a locked door and decided to go down further until he reached the last door on level 5—another theme, Julien's cells had been on level 5 in New York. He disillusioned himself before opening the door, even if his illusions could be stripped, it didn't make any sense going through enemy territory visible.

He slowly walked in, his wand pointed in front of him, down a hall and turned when it ended; two men donning grey suites stood at the end, wearing intent expressions, as though waiting. Harry walked closer, trying to be as quiet as he could, when he deemed himself close enough, he sent two quick Stunners as the men, they slumped on the ground. He opened the door with an Unlocking Charm and walked into the cells; they looked akin to those in New York, on each side was a large window that looked into a small grey-walled cell, with a small bed, in some cases a desk and a metallic toilet.

"Time to do this," Harry muttered as he disenchanted his illusion of invisibility and looked to the first of the small grey rooms; a man, tall and weedy in build, with hair which was a dark brown colour watching him with an unreadable expression. He stood at the sight of Harry and walked towards the large window. On the other room was a broad shouldered, red-headed man who was lazily playing with a golden flame hovering above his hand.

"Who are you?" asked the weedy man, at this the read-head rose.

"For the time being a friend," Harry said loud enough for his voice to echo through the long hall and into other cells. "I'm here to let you out of your cells," he continued, "what you do after that is solely up to you." and with that he shot an Unlocking Charm at the first door—

The lighting turned red. "ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL. PRISONER ESCAPE ON LEVEL FIVE. ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL. PRISONER ESCAPE ON LEVEL FIVE." blared a loud monotone. Harry groaned, but continued as though it wasn't even there.

"What do we do now?" asked one of prisoners, a blonde woman with pale skin. "Guards will be coming."

"Every man for himself," drawled the man with the golden flame, but Harry heard no more as he turned a corner into more cells. He flicked his wand at every door he passed, trying to stay calm even with the loud ringing which was starting to get on his nerves. The prisoners weren't doing much except milling around like headless chickens, none of which had taken to finding an escape.

"How do we get out of here?" asked the weedy man, he along with two others, a tall dark-skinned man with dreadlocks tied in a pony-tail and a plump and motherly looking woman with stark black hair, had decided to follow Harry, which he should have anticipated but didn't and now he was really annoyed.

"Well for one you'd have to try," Harry said, his focus solely on a room enshrouded by a darkness as deep as space itself.

"Some of us don't have our powers," said the plump woman sounding exasperated.

"While some of ours aren't at all offensive," added the dreadlocked man, the plump woman disregarded this.

"The least you could do is help us out of here," she said still sounding exasperated. When she noticed Harry wasn't paying any attention to her, she pulled his shoulder and made him look at her. "I'm talking to you," she said.

"And I'm not listening," Harry said, shrugging of her hand and looking back into the darkness, there was something about it Harry couldn't put his finger on. It was a feeling, not the feeling he felt when there was magic in the air, but the strong feeling of wrongness he'd felt when Albus had fallen off his broom and broken an arm; a feeling only a parent could feel with unadulterated clarity.

"Listen," he said, now turning to face the three. "You're out because it serves a greater purpose, my recommendation would align yourself with the others, there's safety in numbers after all."

BANG

Harry cringed as screams and shouts erupted from further off, other sounds followed: shooting, blasting and crackles of electricity. He hoped none died, but that thought would be naïve in and of itself, this was for the greater good, he reminded himself as he looked at the now scared faces of the inmates who were watching him. He turned back to the darkness again before moving forward, whatever lay in there could wait until he secured the virus, and after which he would come back no matter what.

He walked deeper into level 5, still followed by the three inmates—though the plump woman had done so only because of the steady approaching chaos. The amount of empty cells they passed as they went deeper began to rise and it was only with the knowledge that there were three more people held here that Harry didn't turn back.

"I don't think there are any exit's this way," said the dreadlocked man, the alarm and sounds of fighting still blaring around them. Harry still didn't answer, continued to walk in hope of spotting Peter.

BANG. Sparks flew as the bullet collided with the shield, "Stupefy!" the spell shot out, hitting the man who had shot at him. Harry quickly conjured a shield as two more men rounded the corner, shooting at him and the cringing escapees. He turned on the spot, appearing behind the men and shooting a Stunner at one before they turned; he aimed for the other, but the man had already turned and fired, the bullet rebounded and the man screamed as it went through his shoulder, causing him to drop the gun.

Harry hadn't been expecting that to happened, but he didn't give himself much time to think about it, adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he was feeling a peculiar thirst for battle, a thirst to prove that with the Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, he could beat even armies. He caught someone moving and whipped around but stopped at the grey clothes; all three looked shaken, as though they had not spent too much time around gunfire, but he noticed the ways they looked at him had changed. The weedy man looked impressed and at awe, the plump woman was literally gaping, and the dreadlocked man looked at Harry with an almost hungry, his moving between looking at Harry and his wand.

One to keep an eye out for, he thought as he turned toward the corner the agents had come from, another plan had quickly formed and this one too revolved around Peter. He tapped his head as he rounded another corner and a feeling as though an egg had been cracked over his head started washing over; he quickened his stride. He still had a time-constraint, every minute, there further away it went. Within minutes two more lit cells—only the inhabited cells were lit—shown from the distance, and Harry started at an all-out run, stopping when he saw both Peter and Adam looking through their large windows, trying to see what was going on.

Harry couldn't help himself smiling as he spotted their familiar faces, his first friends in this unknown universe, but he pushed those feelings aside and Apparated into Peter's cells.

"Muffliato," he muttered his wand pointed towards Adam's cell. Peter turned, looking uncertainly around; Harry turned his wand towards Peter. "I'm sorry, friend, Imperio." Peter only had a moment to be confused before he relaxed and a dopey smile appeared on him, he looked a bit out of it.

"I need you to use every power you've ever and will come across to incapacitate the agents in this base," Harry said, "you have full controls of your powers, and you will by all means, stay alive. That's most important: Stay alive. Do you understand?" Peter gave a nod. "Go." The man disappeared without even a sound.

Harry waited what he estimated was a minute before turning on the spot; light and sound disappear, and Harry felt himself pressed into a thin rubber tube that made it impossible to breathe, but wasn't even a second later and he was standing in the dark. He brought up his wand a lit it. His heart almost stopped at the light weakly hit every corner of the of the Vault. It was empty, everyone of the cabinets held nothing but thin air. It was gone. The Virus was gone.

Harry felt his legs begin to quiver, everything around him stood still, all sound and colour drained from the world. What had he just done? What had he caused? Those questions floated through his mind like a mantra. There was no way he knew which he could fix this, no way he knew which he could make things go back to the way they were supposed to be. All hope drained from him as the gravity of the situation started sinking in, as he remembered the sounds of the fighting he's started so he could secure the virus, and all that for nothing. People had, and still would, die for nothing.

Harry stumbled, his head starting to feel lighter and darkness starting to engulf his vision. He shook his head, trying to clear himself of the feeling, but that just made things worse; he felt as though time had sped up and slowed down at the same time, dizziness and nausea starting to set in. Harry tried to think of what was going on, but his mind just refused to work.

DISAPPARATE.

The words filled Harry mind and every one of his lethargic muscles agreed with him, but it took too long for him to even think about turning.

DISAPPARATE.

The words repeated themselves though with a lot more force; Harry took a breath and regretted in as his head felt lighter and the ground began to shake beneath him. He stumbled. Stumbled until his legs gave out and it was only all he could do not to let his head hit the ground. Mid-fall the only thing he could think about were the parallels between this feeling and falling off his broom in third year, when he had seen the large, black dog he had thought was the Grim.

Sirius.

Even now Harry wished he'd gotten the chance to clear Sirius' name and live with him at Grimmauld Place.

Mid-fall Harry turned before his head could hit ground, he brought his arms up to catch his fall, but before he could hit the ground he was pulled into the darkness of Apparition.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Word of God states with Empathic Mimicry, Peter can use two abilities at once. I jsut wanted to make sure everyone knew that going in.

* * *

Doing the Unforgivable

At first there was a sound. It wasn't by any means loud, but it was insistent, pervading the darkness of sleep and forcing Harry out of his retreat; it was a ping, an interval, then another ping, almost an hour of the sound repeated in an unending loop. Harry hated it and he forced himself to wake up, forced himself to rise and be overwhelmed by the emotions of defeat, of hopelessness that would soon follow. But he had to be brave. He was a Gryffindor after all.

Harry woke up; sounds becoming louder, the incessant pinging rising a few notches; he almost choked as he was suddenly hit by the strong smell of disinfectant; cringing as the light above him hit his eyes harshly. He was in a hospital, the deduction was easy considering he spent more time in hospitals, wizard and muggle alike, than the average person. Harry didn't move, he wasn't sure why he was here, the last thing he remembered was being in the Vault (Harry quickly pushed aside all the feelings accompanying the memory) and being overwhelmed by something he didn't know, his body had felt like being hit by an Impediment Jinx and his brain a Jelly-Brain Jinx, not the best feeling in the world, and one Harry didn't wish for in the future; but he was sure movement would bring about a lot of pain.

You have to move though, he thought, you have to fix the mess you just created. How he was going to do that, he didn't yet know; to form a good plan though, he needed to define his assets: The Elder Wand, Julien, Peter, by extension Julien, and himself—with the expansive use of the Imperius Curse Harry also had Victoria, the prisoners and any Company agent he came across. Harry might have before had some reserves about using the a curse that could strip free-will, but things had escalated farther than he'd ever expected. It occurred to him that if he didn't use his full arsenal of spells, his full knowledge of magic, he would be fighting a losing battle.

It was time he got to work.

How could he fix this?

Kaito. If Harry decided for a second to redirect the blame, he could find that all this trouble begun the he had tried to extort Kaito. Harry didn't exactly know how Peter had gone about finish his orders, but he was certainly he should have not been overwhelmed by both the muggles and the supermuggles—Harry also briefly wondered what would happen if Peter ran into the man who could block abilities, would Peter b able to copy the ability and use it on the man in turn, thus the two canceling each other out, or would the man turn Peter into a muggle? Worry surged in Harry as he thought of the prospect: Peter having no abilities while being at the mercy of gun wielding muggles. But they wouldn't kill him would they? Peter was a Petrelli, his father was one of the founders, that would at least grant the man some mercy from the director.

Harry sighed, but decided to be optimistic. Where ever Peter was he was alive, that had been the order he'd told him was most important. Harry was sure if Peter found his powers no longer working he would think of something to make sure he stayed alive; but even with the possibility of Peter being back in his cell—worse yet put to sleep—he was still an asset.

How could he use Peter to get at Kaito Nakamura though?

Kaito could predict Harry's moves, and if Harry remembered correctly, the man had even hinted that as being his ability, if that was so, how had Adam killed him. Harry bit his lips in thought, making sure not to budge even an inch, if he moved he would feel pain and lose his train of thought. Kaito had said he could 'figure out' Harry's identity, most probably the same way he had figured out Harry would be paying him or Bob Bishop a visit; this meant Kaito didn't predict the future, instead figured out the possible course of action someone or something could take.

All at once it was suddenly clear why Kaito had been so confident Harry would lose to his man; if the current director had told Kaito about his release of Julien, then the director would have told him of the abilities Harry had displayed: Invisibility, teleportation, shield creation, disarming—though since this world had telekinetics they would have most likely thought him as such—light creation and stunning. Kaito would have likely taken all this into account and protected himself with guards that could make quick work of Harry, an Illusionist and a man who didn't know the difference between the ceiling and the ground. Both of these men were fast, so thoroughly trained in swords that they were able to cut a spell in half and worked with effortless ease with each other. But Harry had surprised the both with his Greater Fire Spell and the Pyrus Bludgeoning Curse that he had been able to win—not to mention luck had something to do with it.

If his theory was true, then it meant Kaito could only 'figure out' with the amount of information available to him.

Harry next turned to thinking about how he'd used his powers and he cringed, it was obvious with anyone with a critical eye that his powers came from his wand. A wand which had an exact replica sitting in the Vault—Harry thoughts cut off and he groaned loudly, muttering a mantra of nos under his breath. They had his wand and they know knew what it could do, another hitch in the whole Space-Time Continuum thing. But he couldn't do anything about that now, all he had to was ensure he certain events happened: His past-self's friendship with Peter for one and gaining knowledge about the virus so he at least knew what he was looking for, he'd have to be the one to rescue himself if it came to it.

The door hissed as it opened, Harry turned and saw a neatly dressed nurse bustle in. "You're awake," she said, sounding surprised and Harry couldn't help reflect this as her accent filtered into his mind.

"Where am I?" he asked, but he already knew the answer; he remembered while he was falling thinking of Grimmauld Place before he'd Apparated, and now he heard an English accent. He'd been splinched again, only this time he didn't have Adam's blood in his system.

He got up before the nurse could answer and bit a scream as his entire body erupted in sharp throbbing pain. His mind became overwhelmed and he could no longer hold it in, he screamed as what felt like stitches snapped and the pain only intensified. The pain was nothing to the Cruciutus Curse, but it was still pain and it was incomparable; at the back of his mind he could hear the nurse shout things his mind just couldn't grasp so overwhelmed by the pain, he felt hands hold him tightly, thrashing wildly because every part of him hurt.

Darkness.

* * *

At first there was a sound, and talking (Harry didn't even think, he pushed himself from the darkness, the memory of the pain already fading) two people, one a woman, the other a man.

"You say he woke up?" asked the woman sounding worry. Familiar voice, Harry thought.

The man hummed. "An hour ago, but we had to put him under before he tore all his stitches. He should be out of sometime."

"Have you figure out what happened to him yet? Or who he is?"

"No on both counts," said the man, then he whispered, "though we think he might have been tortured." The man paused but something in the woman must have prompted him to speak because he continued a moment later, "You have to understand the police are investigating this," saying this in almost a whisper, "they've asked for confidentiality on our part, but from what we've seem from this man: the exhaustion, gas poisoning—a gas that I have never encountered before I might add—the deep gouges on his person, the healing scar weeks old across his face, are all indications of torture."

Harry didn't react, he couldn't account for most of those injuries except for the gas, maybe it had happened in the Vault? But his mind returned to the conversation around him as the woman said, "Do the police have any idea who might have done this?" she said, her voice shaky. "I found this man in my house after all, the person who did this to him could—" her voice broke, the possibility of a sadistic lunatic of the streets obviously not reassuring her of the safety London provided.

"I'm afraid that question is for the police," the doctor said. "I only have information about my patient."

"Thank you Dr. Barney," she said and sounding as though she meant it. "I really appreciate all you've told me."

"Not a problem Ms. Zimmerman, just-" and he whispered again, "let's keep what I told you between us." Barbara, that was where he knew the voice from, but they hadn't met yet, he reminded himself.

"Will do," she said and her leaving footsteps filled the room, but they paused as the door hissed open. "I also found this," she said. "I think it might be his, should I give it to you or the police?"

"I'll take it," said Dr. Barney, "I don't want to inconvenience you." Her footsteps reverberated through the room again and then silence.

Harry opened his eyes and took a moment to adjust his eyes, the doctor, a short statured man with messy brown hair and wearing thick glasses, stood next to his bed, firmly looking at a small pice of paper Harry knew too well: The formula.

"That's mine," he said and stopped himself from getting up, the prospect of his entire body going into spasms again still fresh in his mind. The doctor started, almost dropping the formula, his hadn't clutching over his heart.

"You scared me," the man said, then chuckling slightly. He turned surprised when it dawned on him Harry was awake. "You're awake," he said, frowning. "I've got to say I wasn't expecting that." Harry noticed the doctor absently put the formula in his pocket and stopped him.

"I repeat, that's mine," said Harry. "It would be most kind if I got it back."

"Yes, yes, I'll make sure if goes with the rest of your possessions," said Dr. Barney. "But for the moment that's not important, do you know where you are?" Harry gave a brief nod, his eyes not wavering from the formula in the man's hands; losing it was something he didn't want to happened, it was what Kaito wanted, his leverage in the mess he'd started. "Well?" the doctor said when Harry made no further attempt to answer.

"Well?" Harry repeated.

"Where are you?" asked the doctor a little impatient.

"Obviously in a hospital," Harry answered. "Can I get my things back, please?"

Dr. Barney shook his head. "You're name."

"What about it?"

"What is it? What is your name?" the doctor asked his impatience rising.

"Sirius Black," Harry answered, "now can I get my things back?"

"Well, Mr. Black," started Dr. Barney, "I'm not sure you've noticed, but you're injured. The fact that you're even alive is highly unusual—a miracle I would say if I believed in such things. The gas the you were under should have done more than knock you out, and I dare say the blood-loss—" He broke off and gathered himself. "Let's just say, you're lucky to be alive, and staying as such is my priority, and for the moment that means a lot of bed-rest."

"And how is bringing me my stuff going to interfere with that?" Harry asked when the doctor had stopped. "All I want is to make sure, I still have my things, can you bring them to me?"

Dr. Barney didn't answer for a long moment, looking at Harry with unreadable eyes, then he shook his head. "How about this, I get the nurse to bring you the stick you were carrying—I'm afraid the police took your little suite for testing or something as such—and in the mean time you answer a few of my questions."

Harry nodded without even hesitating. Dr Barney smiled again, and stopped before he walked out. "You'll most likely want this," he said and placed the formula on the side-board beside Harry's bed, before he walked out.

Harry lay as such, not budging an inch even as his nose started itching; he didn't want to chance ripping any more stitches. It was a few more minutes before Harry felt the call of the Elder Wand moving towards him, his lips quirked, because even in the bleakest of days as long as he had his wand there was still a possibility that he could make things go his way; a nurse, a different one from the first walked in, the Elder Wand held as far as possible from her person and her face showing apprehension.

"Dr. Barney said you wanted this," she said, she didn't even look at the wand for some reason. Harry didn't give it too much thought.

"Can you put it in my right hand please," said Harry. The nurse looked confused but did as she was asked.

She said before she left, "Dr. Barney decided to also call the police while you're still awake. They wanted to talk to you."

Harry tested his hand first, pain twinged as he closed it around his wand but it was bearable; then went his arm, his full-out winced as tendrils of pain shot up and down his arm. Harry's teeth grit together, as he moved his arm in a circular motion and trying to bring up happy memories; it took for tries before Prongs formed beside him.

"Find Peter, tell him to find me, to follow you if he can't," Harry said through gritted teeth, watching as Prongs disappeared; he let his arm drop, already tired from his small actions. "Repello Muggletum," Harry muttered and tapped his bed, then let himself get some needed sleep.

* * *

"What are we doing here, Peter?" Harry heard, the voice was muffled, but he could tell it was familiar. "We have more important things to do," he said, "we still have to get to Nathan."

"I can teleport us there," said Peter, "but this is more important."

"Why, though?" asked Adam.

"It just is," snapped Peter, "Just... He's in a hospital, that means he's hurt. Can you heal him?"

Harry woke at this, just in time to see Adam look at him, frown and shake his head. "Peter, I really don't see why were here, this isn't important," the man said looking towards the door.

"Adam," hissed Peter, but Adam's focus remained as far from Harry and possible. Harry tapped his bed again, the spell breaking and Adam looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes opened wide at the sight of him.

"I'll need a needle," Adam said to Peter, sounding surprised; a needle zoomed across the room and stopped in front of Peter. Adam quickly got to it, he stabbed himself with the needle and drew some blood, then injected Harry—who winced as Adam searched for a vein. Harry's arm began to tingle as the blood took effect, and his entire body soon began to itch uncontrollably. In all in was half an hour before the itching and tingling stopped, and Harry felt himself brave enough to move.

He stood and stretched, pleasantly pleased he wasn't in pain. "We'd better get out of here before the doctors come back," Harry said, grabbing the formula and looking towards the two men; Peter still looked a little dopey, Adam on the other hand looked bemused, befuddled and confounded. "Your hands if you please," Harry said, his hands outstretched. Peter didn't hesitate and after looking doubtfully at Peter, but followed suit; Harry Apparated to his bare livingroom.

Adam coughed harshly on arrival and Harry thought he might bring up whatever meal the Company had fed him, Peter didn't seem the slightest bit affected. "That was bloody uncomfortable," Adam said, between coughs.

"You get used to it," Harry said, waving him off. He turned his attention to Peter. "What happened in Odessa?" Harry asked.

"I did as you ordered," Peter started in a sort of monotone. "I teleported to the place with the most people—it wasn't too far from my cell. I appeared in the middle of a prisoner escape, I knocked out the agents like you said. I teleported again, appearing in front of a huge metal door," Harry noticed Adam perk at the mention of that door, "there were close to twenty agents and they overwhelmed me pretty quickly, I chose that moment to get Adam and get out."

"At least you bought me time," Harry said, not mentioning it hadn't meant much at the end of the day. Harry frowned as he thought of something. "You said you could sense the room with a lot of people, how?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know who I got it from but I just know where people with abilities are," he said, "and if I concentrate hard enough, I can find anyone anywhere, though that ability isn't all that useful in battle."

Harry smirked, ideas forming quicker than he could help. "Do you need to know who you're looking for?"

"I just need a vague idea," Peter answered.

"Can you still read minds?" Peter nodded. Harry dropped his Occlumency barriers, a task easier than put them up again, and thought of himself, Kaito Nakamura, Julien Dumont and Ricardo Silva. "I want you to find these people." Even with his barriers dropped Harry could feel Peter enter his mind, it wasn't by any means painful, but it was uncomfortable. Harry let out a breath of relief as he quickly felt Peter pull out, and he quickly raised his shields again.

"Do you want me to find them in that order?" Peter asked.

"No, uhm, go to the third and be around him for a minute or so—make sure you aren't seen—write down the locations of the second and the fourth, an after we're done with the third you'll take us to the first," Harry answered.

"But the first's you," Peter said a little confused.

"Think me, but younger," Harry said and he looked at Adam, he didn't know why, but he still didn't fully trust the man. "I suppose you want an explanation?"

"It would be ideal," Adam returned sarcastically.

"Later, but now I need your help. Peter, go find Julien and come back once you're certain you have his ability." Peter disappeared.

"You said you need my help," said Adam when Peter was gone. Harry nodded. "My help doesn't come cheap, I want answers."

"And I'll tell them to you once we stop being in crisis," Harry said absently. "How would you kill Kaito Nakamura?" he asked, not noticing he'd started to pace. Adam didn't answer, surprised by this. "You worked for the Company before you were arrested, I assume you know what his ability is?"

"Yes, yes," said Adam, snapping out of his awe—it was the first time Harry had ever seen the expression off the man, during their future escapades, Adam's actions had always seemed planned out. "I do, he can see the variables of any situation and predict the outcome."

So Harry had been right about Kaito, but he'd long figured that. "If I told you, you managed to kill, Kaito, how would you have managed to carry out such a task?"

"I don't know, I haven't tried, I have no reason to," said Adam.

"And if I told you he knew how to kill you, would that give you initiative to find a way?"

"It would."

"Then he does," Harry said, "I want you to remember that." He brought up his wand and shot a Stunner at Adam, the man slumped on the ground just as Peter appeared.

"Got it," the man said then looked at Adam. "What happened to him?"

"I stunned him. Do you have the power?" Peter nodded. "I want you to make a clone of yourself that's exactly like you even in personality." A second and two exact Peter's were standing in front of him, one with a dopey expression the other's face set in a snarl.

"You—"

"Imperio," Harry said and the snarl disappeared, the clone taking a look identical to Root-Peter. Harry pointed his wand Root-Peter and got to the strenuous task of modifying the man's memory of the last few days, and making him think he, along with himself and Adam had escaped together; Harry then did the same to Adam, though he made sure to keep the impulse to finding a solution to the Kaito problem. "Peter find me, and bring him here." Peter disappeared again, a moment and he reappeared, a waking Harry in his arms; Harry shot a Stunner at himself before he could even wake and went on the task of modifying his memories to match what Harry remembered of his escape.

"Mobilicorpus," said Harry as he swished a wand; Harry, Peter and Adam stood, their heads lolling back and forth as their limbs moved like puppets. The clone Peter frowned at this, then looked at Harry.

"Why can't I copy your powers?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't say I know," he answered, filing that information away for later thought. He summoned an already charmed combat suit and put it on. "I haven't introduce myself have I?" Peter shook his head. "I'm Harry Potter, we haven't met yet, and I know you'll probably hate me for controlling you like this, but we will be and were good friends."

"Time-traveler?" Harry nodded.

"I have traveled through time yes, by your help coincidentally," he added. Peter and Adam were his first friends in this universe, and losing them wasn't a prospect he was looking forward to, which why he was prepared to stripped them of his morally wrong—though understandabe in Harry's opinion—actions. Harry shrugged on his bullet-proof vest, he'd charmed it with a Feather-Light Spell to reduce the weight, and put the formula in his pocket, locking it a 'Colloportus'.

"Why are you controlling me though?" Peter asked. Harry looked up and saw the fire in Peter's eyes, he was already starting to fight the melancholic submission of the Imperius Curse; Harry estimated he didn't have too long before Peter could shrug it off as if it were nothing.

"For your powers," Harry answered, his voice coming out with unintended weariness. "Your powerful, Peter, neigh on omnipotent I'd reckon. Having someone like you on my side would make my job easier, and I'm hoping you'll be my ace."

"Your ace against what?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't tell you yet," he said. "I don't know yet if the real Peter could somehow get the information in your head. But without my curse, I think he'll have trouble accessing his cloning ability, so there might be lag until he discovers you."

"But in the chance he does, you don't want me leaking him information?" Harry nodded at this. "I still don't understand, why clone me in the first place?"

"The real Peter still has Nathan to save, I can't in my right mind stand in the way of that," said Harry, the fire in Peter's eyes only seemed to intensify as the subject of his brother came up; Harry would need to work very fast. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You'll first drop me off at wherever Ricardo Silva is, then you'll come back for these three and take to Odessa, just outside of Primatech, waiting while invisible until they wake up and watch them until they leave. After that—have you ever met Bob Bishop?" Peter nodded. "Then after that's done, come back here, collect rocks, make sure they're not too large and turn into gold, fill the entire house if you have to. Got that?"

"Got it."

"Let's get to it then." Peter took Harry's by the shoulder, closed his eyes and Harry suddenly found himself standing in a low lit bar, smelling dry and musty. Peter disappeared before Harry could even comment.

"You've made new friends, Mr. Potter," said Ricardio, the man sat at the bar, a large mug of beer in his hand. "But you do have that knack don't you?" he said and the man chuckled.

"Ricardo," Harry said and took a seat on the stools lining the bar, he suddenly felt very, very warm. He absently wondered where he was but that wasn't important.

The man smirked in a feral way only he could manage, his eyes shining with a sort of mischievous glint. "Come to check up on me, Mr Potter?" he said. "Trying to see if I haven't stirred up any trouble?"

"Amongst other things, yes."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I find mind myself in a sort of dilemma," Harry started. "There are people looking for me-"

"Most likely the Company," Ricardio said but Harry ignored this and went on.

"-and I'm lucky enough that they don't know who I am. Between you and our friend Julien, you two are the only people that could rat me out."

"So let me guess, you're here to kill me so I don't spill your secret," Ricardo suggested.

Harry snorted. "No, that would be too crude. I'm just here to tie your tongue," Harry said and chuckled at his own joke, Ricardo missed it of course.

"And what leverage do you have over me that could tie my tongue? Or were you talking literally?"

"Meta-literal," Harry said, "if there is such a thing of course."

"There is."

"Then I'll take your word for it. Mimblewimble." Ricardo's tanned skin went pale and his hand flying to his throat, his eyes began to turn a red hue but Harry gestured to the wand that lay on the table pointed at Ricardo. "I needn't remind you what I can do with this." Ricardo's eyes dimmed and turned back to their normal colour.

"What did you do to me," the man said slowly as though testing if his tongue worked.

"Tied your tongue, I think I told you that right?"

"You did," said Ricardo thoughtfully, then his anger had quickly dissipated and his smirk was back. "How goes your endeavour with the Company? Taking them down as easy as you thought?" he added when Harry's own playfulness disappeared.

"It's going," Harry said and turned away from Ricardo to look at the bar in detail; there were a few patrons, all men, and they sat hunched with cool beers clutched in their hands. Harry couldn't help the hankering himself with the sweltering heat coming from the open entrance. "Where are we?"

"Mexico, the Company isn't as strong around here. It makes keeping low very easy."

"And how is that treating you? Keeping low that is?"

"It's treating me well, though I admit I do miss teaching," he said sounding wistful.

"You were a teacher?"

"A professor," Ricardo corrected. "A professor of genetics," he said proudly, "it's a pity that all that education is worth nothing now. I do loathe that Company," he said and quickly added, "but not enough to wage war with them Mr—" he suddenly cut-off from whatever he was going to say.

"Well," Harry said as though he hadn't noticed Ricardo's sudden stop. "If you were to fight then and win, then it would mean no more running."

"It would also mean the possibility at death, and I'm sorry to say," Harry could see the man thinking twice about saying his name. "I value my life above others, a selfish trait yes, but one every human—wether they admit it or not—habours."

Harry sighed. "Your might be really useful," he said. "God knows I need someone smart to work with." Harry stood to leave, making sure to get a beer before venturing out into the heat to charm a port key.

Harry appeared with a stumble at the home of Victoria Pratt, smiling appreciatively at his own genius that the misty golden line of his Entrapment Ward still glowed a bright gold. He started the short walk to the house, still alert, it would just be his luck if he was caught off guard by Victoria and being knocked out.

He flicked his wand, silently opening the door, and said a low Human Revealment Charm; there woman was on the in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Harry Apparated, formalities were to be put aside for now, he needed to salvage this dire situation. He opened the woman's door and spotted her on the other side of the room, looking out the window and an empty canvass in front of her.

"You're back," she said without turning, she sounded weary. "I can't say I missed you," she added wi forced coolness.

"Mutual feeling shared between us," Harry said. "But let's not dwell on this too long, Imperio," and Victoria's shoulders slackened. "Stand," Harry ordered and Victoria did as such. "Good, you are going to go back to working for the Company, try to weed out the information of Strain 138, though you act in the most discreet in the most absolute of ways. You will act normally in all respects, but you will not even mention me to any of the other founders. Understood?"

The red-headed woman nodded, her dopey expression disappearing but Harry couldn't still feel the connection to his spell. Why he didn't just use the Imperius Curse to find out about the virus in the first place he still wasn't sure about, but then knowing the full gravity of loss, and having lost both his wand and the virus, had opened his eyes and lightened the dark side of magic.

"Very good," Harry said. "You'll get to that immediately" and he turned on the spot, dispelled the entrapment and Port keyed back to England; he now had two days to fix the house, if everything went as it should that was.


	15. Chapter 15

Answers, Questions

and a

Speedster

Harry heaved a sigh of relief as he fell against the couch, feeling his muscles relax for the first time in technically two day, but with a time-traveler in his back pocket it was more like six; all of which spilt between trying to get the house fully furnished, charming the attic into an impenetrable vault (Peter had tested it and it had taken him seven hours to bypass the wards,) trying to charm a compass into finding things than pointing north, acquiring more suits to charm with shields, exchanging some of the gold for different currencies, charming other objects he thought might be useful, and thinking up new strategies to finding the virus, his wand, Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone, though the last he didn't care much for.

It had truly been a tiring two days, and rest seemed the most sensible thing to do now.

"Harry?" he heard, the voice ringing through the entire house. Harry who had now taken to having a small kip on the still new-smelling couch, didn't answer. "Harry are you in here?" Julien said his voice drifting in again just loud enough Harry couldn't lie about not hearing him.

"Livingroom," he said, his wand at his throat and his voice reaching everywhere in the house at the same time, where one not used to magic, it surely would have been creepy; which was why Harry was not the least bit surprised when Julien walked in moment later, looking a touch disconcerted.

"So I take it everything went well in Japan?" Julien asked, and through his half closed eyes Harry could see Julien looking at the furniture appreciatively.

Harry snorted. "Far from it," he said and leaving it as such; as far as Harry was concerned, the downward plummet of his plan was 'Take Down The Company' business, and Julien still hadn't chosen sides in that fight.

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Julien said, "I'm in."

"In what?" Harry asked, his full attention now on Julien, though from his eyes it would have easy to think he was uninterested in the entire situation.

"Your army or whatever, I want to take down the Company."

Harry sat up. "And why the sudden change?" he asked. "I thought you didn't want to believe they had the means and intentions to destroy humanity."

Julien hesitated, his eyes reflecting an internal struggle, before he sat himself on one of the smaller sofas. He took a breath and didn't say anything. Harry sat up, curious at the hesitation. "I ran into a couple of agent two days ago—"

Harry was on his feet before the sentence was even finished, his heart pounding and adrenaline giving a new light to things. He hadn't yet had time to ward the house against intruders, and the possibility that there might be agents pointing guns at him made his stomach drop. He hadn't even realised, but his wand was pointed a Julien, his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"You led them here," he said, his voice coming out in an odd hiss colder than ice; Julien had responded in kind, he was on his feet, both his fists brought up in a fight-ready stance.

"It's not like that, Harry," he said quickly, his voice restrained but still with an angry edge. "I wouldn't betray you. You saved me after all."

"Then how do you explain how you got away?" Julien, though more an apt fighter than Harry, was still weak, he hadn't had enough time to recover enough that he would be able to take on agents all on his own, and if Julien didn't have as strict control as Peter on the clones he produced, then they would come up with skills Julien hadn't intended.

"I didn't," Julien said, quickly continuing as Harry's wand tip began to glow an ominous red. "They let me go, they tried to get me to tell them where you were staying, but—since I thought they might know about your shields—I told them the wouldn't be able to get, that you had the entire yard shielded. I told them I could get you out of the house, I told them your shields didn't activate without you being unaware of a fight."

"It still doesn't explain why the let you go," Harry said. "They'd ever let you go without leverage."

"I'm the leverage," Julien said as though he had waited for the question, as though all this he had planned this from the moment he split from Julien. The man in front of Harry was a clone, a clone of such likeness in Julien, Harry wouldn't ve even suspected him of any deceit had he not been forth coming. "They said if I dont come back with you, they'll kill Root," the clone said, the anger in his eyes dissipating. "I need your help."

Harry gave it some thought: Did he believe the clone? He didn't want to, there was too much that had happened in the last couple of days which meant he could not afford to trust blindly; all his moves mattered one wrong move and he'd lose the over all picture. He couldn't afford that with the sacrifices he had already made. But he couldn't just leave Julien like this, maybe the man was indeed captured—which the blond's fault, Harry had explicitly told him to be careful—then he would need Harry's help, and Harry was reluctant to even do that, add to that, the whole thing being a trap to ambush Harry, and the wizard found he had absolutely no idea what he could do.

But he did know one thing for certain; for now he didn't trust Julien's clone. The man wasn't Julien, Harry reminded himself, he might look like him, and act a great deal like him, but it definitely wasn't. For all he knew, the blond in front of him might be one of the clones who had been made while Julien was asleep, and if that was true, then it meant Julien didn't have full control of his clones—not that the thought was most important—and the Company knew where he lived, but that was stretching it, if that was true, then they would be everywhere.

He could think about all that later thought, for now there was a potential enemy in front of him, 'Stupefy', a red bolt jumped out of Harry's wand, but Julien had already ducked to the side and started running towards Harry.

Harry hadn't been expecting the man to dodge, and he had surely not been expecting Julien to come barreling towards him; an 'oomph' left Harry as Julien's shoulder connected with his chest, pushing all the air out of him and sending him and Julien toppling over the long sofa, both slamming against the cold floor. Julien was quicker to his feet and sent a kick at Harry's stomach; Harry rolled out of its way, shooting Bludgeoning Curse that missed and chipped the ceiling as it hit. He got to his feet, his wand aimed at Julien, they had enough distance between them that Julien could easily dodge.

"I told him you wouldn't help," Julien said in that soft way that told Harry when the man was truly angry. "You just want to use us like the Company you 'rescued us' from."

Harry snorted. He didn't like being accused for something he couldn't have done, but had chosen not to do; he could have had Julien under the Imperius Curse like Peter's clone and Victoria Pratt but chose not to, he'd given the man the choice of whether to join him or not, and here that was being tossed back at his face.

"Trust me clone," he sneered. "If I'd wanted to use it would have been child's play."

Julien charged, jumping out of the way as a purple light shot at him. Harry gave his wand a vicious slash, the ground exploding and sending Julien of his feet; the man hadn't even landed before an invisible rope grabbed hold of his ankle and kept him in the air.

"Stupefy," Harry said, and Julien clattered on the ground, his eyes closed, and his chest rising and falling as he slept. Harry summoned one of the kitchen chairs to the livingroom and sat Julien on it, before conjuring thin ropes to keep him on the chair; he'd get Peter to check the clone's mind of what happened when Peter got back: Harry had sent him to the field Godric's Hollow was supposed to be for when his past-self appeared out of thin air, badly splinched.

Harry made his way to the second floor, and shambled to the last room, his lab for the time being. Harry had noticed he was using too much magic in the house for his past-self not to sense, but he'd made peace with the fact that he couldn't get things to match his memories of them, all he could do was make sure all the important things happened the way they were supposed—except the whole virus getting released thing, of course.

He walked into the room, larger on the inside than it was supposed to be; it had the feel of a lab, filled with objects that would make sense only to the demented, one corner was piled with compasses that whizzed and spun wildly, never fixing to any direction, another had finely broken glass that looked as though it had once been mirrors, there was large wardrobe filled with black suits that looked identical to those worn by Harry, and beside it was a stack of old-looking brooms which defied gravity they way they piled onto each other. It wasn't the neatest room in the house, but Harry hadn't given that fact any thought, this was his lab, a room whose walls were literally ubreakable—Harry suspected even Fiendfyre would have trouble with them, but wasn't willing to put that to the test—and windows like-wise. Blue fires flared into life as Harry entered the room, the Blue-Bell Flames bobbing calmly up and down from their holding jars. Harry felt nostalgic every time he looked at them.

He continued shambling toward the large table sitting in front of the room's only window, and made himself comfortable on the large, throne-like chair behind it; he would have to start crafting Protective Enchantment around his entire yard, a daunting task given the scale, but one he was forced to do. A part of Harry wished he was more like Dumbledore, Flitwick, or Hermione, those who could just wave their wands while muttering incantations and getting their wards to just fall into place in the perfect shape; unfortunately he wasn't like that, he would have to give his entire concentration to envisioning the final product whilst moving his wand in complicated patterns and remembering the appropriate incantations. He was too tired to be attempting any of this, he needed sleep and this was one of the safest rooms in the house—the gold vault was safer but it took too long to open, he needed his little kip.

He gave his wand a hearty wave and felt, more than saw, the Locking charm lock all the doors and windows, after which he closed his eyes for a few moments of rest.

The next few hours, Harry spent with his mind taking some time off; not thinking, not dreaming, just letting the regenerative properties of sleep do their thing. But he'd known this wouldn't last too long, it was only a matter of time before something came up, and he wasn't at all surprised that when he heard Peter say, "Harry he's here" and Harry didn't need much prompting to wake up as a coppery scent filled the air.

He opened his eyes and his pale and bloodied self in Peter's arms. It still shook Harry at his core every time he saw himself—he'd done that a lot during his constant going back in time—but this time it was even worse; his past-self was extremely pale, his features scrunched in such a way that it was clear he was in pain, he shirt was charred at his chest, blood seeping from beneath his clothes.

"Put him, in the main bathroom," Harry said getting to his feet, Peter had already disappeared at his command, Harry Apparating just a moment later. "You can heal right?" Peter nodded. "Give him some of your blood." Harry levitated the body off Peter and conjured a syringe, Peter quickly got to the task of drawing blood and expertly searched for a vein, finding it quicker than Adam when he'd healed Harry, and injected the still bleeding man.

"What now?" Peter asked as they watched his blood get to work, it was slower than Adam's, Harry guessed the potency of healing blood was in its age, but that wasn't overly important: Healing was healing, and that was it.

"We let him heal," Harry said as he vanished his clothes, conjured bandages from all the splinching wounds and tucking the man into bed. He spent a few minutes silent, watching the man laying across from him, anxiety filling him; he hadn't thought about it, but the times when he had looked for his wand had been much simpler than these. He hadn't had to worry about the end of humanity or Kaito, he'd just had one goal, one focus and that was it, and what made things worse was the fact he was about to let this man—most likely—make the same mistakes, have the same regrets.

"Harry?"

Harry shook his head, getting his mind back on the situation at hand. "You saw Julien I presume?" Peter nodded. "I need you to read his mind and find out what has happened during his last four days," he continued as they made their way down stairs.

Julien was awake, his arms red from trying to pull apart the thin rope which deceptively looked like they were snap by even the smallest force.

"Get me out of these!" Julien snarled at the sight of them. His efforts at getting out of his the bindings doubled so much so, Harry thought it might be merciful to stun him; trouble was, he didn't know how an unconscious subject could have his mind read.

"Unfortunately not," Harry said calmly, and he gave Peter the go ahead. It all happened rather quickly; Peter tilted his head, his features furrowing his brow as he concentrated, and the next second on the floor, his hands covering his ears and screaming as though he was having sensory overload. Harry stood, stock-still, unsure what he could do, unsure what was really he happening, his stunned both Peter and Julien for something to do; he levitated Peter's body onto the sofa and decided to give him a few minutes before he woke him up.

"Innervate," he finally said after fifteen minutes. Peter jerked awake with a large intake of breath, before looking around, a little disoriented.

He rubbed his hand against his forehead as though trying to clear a headache, he groaned a long stretched-ou groan before dropping back on the sofa. "It feels like my head was run over by herd of elephants," Peter said and wincing with each word.

"What happened back there?" Harry asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

"I don't know, it felt like I was trying too many minds at once," Peter said. "definitely something I don't want to be doing any time soon."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "So you're okay?"

Peter nodded, still lying back. "But I may need a while. Why did you need me to read him anyway?"

"He says the original him was kidnapped, and he was sent here to try and double-cross the agents that captured the real Dumont, I'm just not buying that this could all be a trap," Harry said.

"So what're you going to do now?"

Harry shrugged. "I hadn't thought of the possibility of his mind being unreadable, and I don't really much time to think about it."

"I could check it out. Try and find him."

Harry shook his head. "No time, I need you at your best when we get to Kaito. The man's dangerous, and for all I know he could know of my plans today." Which was a scary thought for Harry in a game where even the smallest of moves had deadly consequences. He might have known what Katio's ability was, but that still didn't mean he could out-match him when it came to planning.

"Let's get going then," Peter said, but Harry quickly shook his head.

"I've still gotta fine tune what we're there to do anyway," Harry said, starting to pace. He didn't have much knowledge on how Kaito had reacted to his plans for getting the virus before it was moved, therefore he didn't truly know if his theory for outlandish, unpredictable plans had worked, but he still felt confident enough to continue planning as such, just to be on the safe side.

Peter shook his head in a disbelieving fashion, the man hadn't believed Harry when the wizard had told him Kaito Nakamura, Hiro's father, was a mastermind. Peter had shook his head and said it didn't make sense that the man Harry described was the father of the dorky and loveable Hiro, a man that was intent on proving himself the hero—of course Peter had stupidly chuckled at his own pun.

"I still can't believe you're talking about Hiro's father," Peter commented, but he shrugged. "But I think I can understand it," he said softly. "My own father was nothing like me, he was more like Nathan, driven, ambitious and he didn't let anything get in his way; people said he was an animal when he was in court."

"So your father was a lawyer?" Harry asked, stopping and looking at Peter with unhidden interest. The subject of asking Peter about his father, who was a Company founder, Harry reminded himself, hadn't come up yet. Harry had lost it behind piles of other troubles that were more prominent, but since Peter was opening up, he wasn't about to let the opportunity just pass.

"Yes , yes he is," Peter said. "It's why Nathan got into law in the first place. My father thought I should do the same thing but," he shrugged, "I wanted to help people in a personal way, it's why I chose to become a nurse."

"Peter," Harry said hesitantly after a minute, he didn't know how to ask this so he just went ahead. "Do you think your father had an ability?"

Peter gave it some thought, then shook his head. "The first time I told my mother I could fly she didn't believe me, I'd think if dad could do what Nathan and I could do, then he would have told mom."

Harry nodded, filing that information away; he was sure the man he had seen was Peter's father, there was too much of a resemblance for him to think he was an uncle or some such relative, but that they hadn't told their children of their lineage was strange. Harry would have to get a chat in with Mrs. Petrelli sometime, Harry was sure she knew something about the whole power thing if not the Company. Harry knew from experience how hard it was to keep a secret from a spouse.

"But do you think it might be a possibility?" Harry went further. "Because from my experience abilities are hereditary, you and your brother had to get it somewhere and I think it might be your father."

"Why would you think that?"

"Just a hunch," Harry said. "Are you feeling better enough to stand?" Peter nodded and got to his feet, the man too was wearing a suit which looked identical to Harry's, charmed with a protective enchantments that could protect it from most projectiles, though something with enough power could still rip through it.

"Give me a minute," Harry said, before quickly going to his lab and taking out a transfigured copy of the formula, though Harry had made sure to smudge minute details so that if things went south, he still had leverage; next Harry transported Julien's clone to a guest room, locked every crevice and fortified everything that could be broken, he did the same to his own room.

"Let's get to it, then." He said and Peter laid a hand on his shoulder.

The suddeness had been something Harry was getting used, his brain was starting to lose its expectancy for spinning everytime he thought about teleportation, but it was still a it strange; a moment they were surrounded by his cozy livingroom and the next they were in a cool office whose colours ranged from black, to grey, to white. It was different from the office Harry had fought the two supermuggles, but it had the same style, the same sleekness to it.

"Ah, I see you have stopped hidding," Kaito said, the man stood not far from Harry and Peter, wearing a black suit and a sheathed sword with a golden symbol on its hilt.

"I don't think I need to anymore," Harry said with a shrug, the real reason he'd been hiding was because he didn't want to compromise himself, but now that his past-self was safe for the moment.

"Time travel?" Kaito asked, but the question was clearly rhetorical. His eyes were on Peter as he asked this. "You've met my son then, Mr Petrelli." Kaito's eyes began to shine with worry, but it was gone so quickly, Harry thought he might have imagined it.

"Hiro?" Harry asked and Kaito's eyes returned to him, brief surprise showing before it quickly disappeared.

'He's back,' Harry heard, Peter's voice ringing through his mind. Harry had dropped his barriers just enough that Peter could push in thoughts, though they wouldn't overwhelm him. 'He keeps thinking, Hiro, will come back.'

'Has he thought about the virus? Or my wand?' Harry thought.

'Not yet.'

"You have something I want," Harry said out loud.

"No, I don't," Kaito returned. "But I do know where it is."

"And you'll tell me if I give you this?" at this Harry took out his the transfigured paper and waved it in front of him, this proved to b a mistake; the paper disappeared as if by magic, just a short woman with short-cut, blonde hair appeared beside Kaito.

"I'll be taking this boys," she said with a mischievous smirk; Kaito unsheathed his sword, Peter's hands became wild with electricity, and Harry had his wand out and pointed at the woman. Kaito cast his sword down, Peter shooting his lightning bolt and a Bludgeoning Curse leaving Harry's wand; the woman disappeared, Harry turned to look at Peter but the man was no longer there. Harry turned his wand on Kaito.

"Who was she?" Harry asked, his voice rising, he had momentarily forgotten that the paper was a fake. Kaito didn't much look different from Harry, the man showed true surprise.

"I cannot say I know," Kaito answered, and Harry believed him. "She's something I did not see coming, we have to find that formula, if has the potential to destroy the world," Kaito said gravely and Harry couldn't help but groan.

"You people really love things that could destroy the world don't you?" Harry snapped, his wand glowing red; Kaito tightened his hold on his sword. "Honestly, first the virus and now this," he took breath, trying to calm himself down, but it didn't work. "Explain to me why," Harry said. "Why do you hate humanity so much."

"We do not hate humanity," Kaito said, sounding appalled that Harry could even think that. "We tried to better it, that formula was the first attempt, but we deemed it too dangerous."

"And the virus?" Harry asked. "Tell me what good making, a bloody virus that could wipe-out everything, would do."

Kaito paused, his eyes wide in surprise. "You know about Strain 138?"

"What?" Harry asked taken completely off-guard by the question. "Why did you think I wanted to get into the virus in the first place? To destroyed the darned thing before you demented morons thought about releasing it."

"It seems I did not know enough," Kaito mused lowly, his sword coming down. "I had thought you wanted the stick seeing as you have one identical to our own." Kaito frowned, looking defeated. "I apologise..."

"Black, Siruis Black." He had no idea why he lied.

"Mr. Black, but it seems my attempt at penance has only made matters worse. The virus, and the location of the other trinkets that belong in the vault are known only by Robert Bishop, but he will not willingly give it to you."

"I'm sure I can manage," Harry said, sounding blasé. He dropped his arm. "Where will Bob be?" Harry asked, if Kaito was being wanton with information, Harry wasn't about to have any reservations about asking questions.

"Hartsdale, New York. You should be careful though, he will obviously have guards."

"Well, this has been informative," Harry said lightly, but paused before he could turn on the spot. "Why was I arrested?" he asked, the feelings associated with arrest threatened to come back, but Harry pushed them aside.

"Angella Petrelli," Kaito said simply.

Harry was stumped. "Peter's mother?"

Kaito nodded. "It was after her dream that we searched for you," the man said. "Her prediction is already on its way of coming through, I see," mused Kaito.

"What prediction?" Harry asked but he didn't get an answer.

"You will excuse me, Mr Black, but I have a formula to find," he said before sheathing his sword and walking out of the room, leaving Harry alone in the office-y room, waiting for Peter.

A half-hour passed, then the man appeared beside Harry, out of breath and looking a bit pale. "I couldn't—catch her," he said through panting. "She's too fast."

Harry waved it off. "Not important." Harry summoned two paper-weights, charmed one for England and the other for America, he and Peter both held it and a swirl of colour later, they were standing in the house. "Stay here, protect the house against intruders." He quickly jogged upstairs to his labs and summoned the only compass in the room that wasn't spinning wildly; he felt a tug at his navel just as the compass came into contact with his hand, then he was standing at some alley in America.


End file.
